


Lost and Found

by Sable_M



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkward Romance, F/M, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-07-27 18:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 75,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sable_M/pseuds/Sable_M
Summary: High School AU with no supernatural elements, in which Eleven comes from an abusive family, and Mike having met her after she runs away after turning 12 years old (prologue), and again when she comes to live in Hawkins almost three years later.Notes: My 5th fanfic (It's been years and the others are on Fanfictiondotnet). An outlet for the lemonade in my head, but an honest attempt at an entertaining story that admittedly devolves into some smuttiness. Please R&R. I love talking about characterization and stuff, and will probably interact with commenters.





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: Stranger Things. Created by the Duffer Brothers and produced by Netflix. I own nothing.

**Key**:

Word = text

“Word” = speech

_'Word' _= thought

_Word_ = miscellaneous

**Word** = titles, headings, etc.

– = narrative break, change in scene, etc.

**Prologue: Hopper**

Nothing ever happened in Hawkins. Chief Jim Hopper had looked everything up in the year since the curious case of Will Byers and Jane Ives had been closed. The last murder had been over twenty years ago, a few missing kids in Roane County since, and a small riot, after the town's high school football team had lost their 10 year winning streak. That was everything of note in the town's history since he had been born here over forty years ago.

Will and Jane's story now topped the list, as far as the chief was concerned. The news agreed, as the small town of Hawkins came under the unkind spotlight of Chicago's local news stations. The chief was forced to make a handful of statements, which appeased most of them—except for Murray Bauman, a reporter for the _Chicago Sun-Times_. This pain in the ass insisted there was more to the story, and hounded Chief Hopper for the better part of the following year. Until his obsession and Hopper's persistent complaints got him taken off assignment, and placed on paid leave. Though he hoped that would be the end of the matter, Murray Bauman had shown up at his home and demanded the story. In near hysterics and smelling of desperation, Bauman pleaded to know the whole truth and promised that it would all be off the record. Finally, the chief relented and invited him inside to have a drink.

Over the next few hours, he explained everything. As the news reported, Will Byers disappeared on the night of November 6th, 1983, after leaving his friend Michael Wheeler's house on bicycle. But what attracted major media attention was not another lost boy in the woods, but what followed the missing-persons report filed by Dr. Martin Brenner. The document as written reported that Dr. Brenner had come into Hawkin's police station on the morning of November 8th, to inform the police that his daughter Jane Ives had run away from home; furthermore, that Chief Hopper had linked the case to the report filed later that day by Joyce Byers. The next day began a community-wide search for the two children, searching the entirety of the woods and surrounding county. Over the next week, due in no small part to the small-town chief's leadership and determination, Will Byers and Jane Ives had been found, for the most part unharmed. In the interim, state troopers had discovered the floating, bloated corpse of Dr. Brenner in the quarry outside of Hawkins—along with the decomposed bodies, and the various bones, of young children that they scoured from the water's depths.

This discovery first attracted the local news reporters, after a fairly-intact body matching Will's description, and dressed in his clothes, was discovered; and they were quick to suggest that Will and Jane must surely have fallen victim to whatever force, person, or persons had caused this quarry to become a mass grave. Many locals believed Will Byers dead, and the search for Jane Ives seemed to come to a halt. Her aunt, who lived in another county, was given all the available information by the authorities; but she seemingly took no further action. The FBI launched a new investigation to determine the cause of death for the various children of the quarry, as well as the death of Dr. Brenner—himself a former government worker for the Department of Agriculture. The media circus was in full swing by this point, and for one, long day the town of Hawkins found itself in the eye of the hurricane created by government and media intervention. However, Will and Jane were discovered on November 13th, in the local school's gymnasium by Chief Jim Hopper, himself. The chief took their statement privately, and quietly closed the case. And without any solid piece of evidence tying all of these events together, the FBI and media both finished their business without involving the local population—or the two children—

“—other than the chief of police, who acted as a much needed and appreciated shield,” Murray finished. Hopper only stared. “I've heard the official story. I want the truth.” The last four words betrayed once again the reporter's desperation. He seemed to know it, so Murray laid all his cards on the table. “I'm out, Hopper. Done with the _Sun_, early retirement. I just want to know. . .for my sanity.”

Hopper continued to stare, tapping the side of his glass with his finger. Finishing his drink, and leaning forward, he spoke with deadly calm. “Brenner didn't come in to report a missing-persons. He was at the station that day, even before I came in. He waited in the lobby, seemingly without a care. Until Joyce Byers arrived, raving about her son. That's when he fed me the story about his daughter—said she had also gone missing—and suggesting that the two might be linked.”

Murray's jaw was slack, but he snapped out of it long enough to interrupt. “B-b-but his daughter was missing. And the Byer's boy. . .” But Hopper was shaking his head side to side.

“She wasn't missing. She ran away. When he went looking in the woods by his cabin, off Cornwallis and Kerny, he found Will Byers. . .and took him.” There was a long silence, as Hopper reconsidered telling this story, and Murray's mind raced to put the pieces together.

“W-w-why would. . .where did the girl go? Jane,” he finished awkwardly.

Hopper leaned back in his living room chair, tapping the empty glass again. He crossed the room to pour out more of the brown liquid, but finished it before sitting down again. “For that first 24 hours, I have no idea. But the Wheeler kid found her some time on November 7th, and she was with him that entire week. Don't ask me any more about that—or her—it's nobody's business. But Brenner kept looking for her, broke into the Wheeler's house at some point, chased his daughter and a few other kids into the woods, and fell into the quarry from the cliff-side. . .dead on impact.”

“What kids?” Murray demanded, as his uncertainty and stammering melted before this new information. Desperation turned to hunger, and he now could not wait for the story: to have answers to the questions that had plagued him for over a year. “I knew,” he said with vicious emphasis on the last word, “Brenner was the linchpin. But are you saying his own daughter, or these kids, are responsible—”

“I told you not to ask me about them,” Hopper growled. Murray waved his anger away. But before he could continue, Hopper spoke. “You were right, Murray. Brenner was pulling the strings in more way than one. No telling how long he was at it, but there's no doubt in my mind that he is the sole person responsible for those 11 bodies in the quarry. And for the disappearance of Will Byers. The only thing he didn't account for was his own daughter's boldness. . .never thought she would actually run.” Murray was pacing now, drink forgotten. Though Hopper side-stepped him, and he went to fill his glass before sitting down again.

“Dr. Brenner killed those kids,” Murray stated. The realization was everything he expected, but something he could not yet grasp. “He imprisoned his daughter, maybe even used her as bait. . .as. . .” Murray stopped mid stride. “The Byers kid saw her, alone in the dark woods. Good kid. . .stupid kid, he went to help. They all went to help, and Brenner grabbed them. She might have never known, not really,” Murray was mumbling now. “. . .until she did. And she ran, leaving them both behind. . .and Michael Wheeler finds her. The friend,” Murray seemingly concluded. He bee-lined for the booze, and drank straight from the bottle. After a painful exhale, he looked Hopper dead in the eye. “Holy shit, you couldn't write this.”

“Ever thought of being a detective, Murray?” Hopper took a long swig. “A private dick, hmm?” He grimaced, “Or an author?”

“And the FBI,” Murray tensed once again. “Do they know?”

Hopper shrugged halfheartedly. “Who knows? I talked with an agent, a woman with blonde hair. Dr. Brenner worked at Hawkin's lab, it seems. Until his daughter was born, and his wife went off the reservation. A government job with a more than generous government pension, but nothing nefarious on the surface—or even important. Could be he was only a monster later in life; but in any case, this agent didn't seem to take anything I said too seriously. Seems like she was doing clean up,” Hopper said, then seeing Murray's confused face, he clarified. “Closing the case. The two kids were found living: one of them a boy back from the dead, and the other a girl no one cared about. One happy parent, and one happy accident,” Hopper laughed darkly to himself. “As for the bodies in the quarry, they were too decomposed to match any missing-persons' reports, save the boy dressed in Will's clothes. He was from one town over—probably grabbed by Brenner to stop the search. But as far as his family knows he was just . . . another boy who got lost in the woods.” Hopper finished his drink. “It happens.”

“And what happened to the girl?” Murray fished for a final answer. “Into the system?”

Hopper tapped his glass, and looked down at his discolored carpet. He had really felt for the girl, when he finally met her, holding onto that Wheeler kid like her life depended on it. Knowing what an awful life she must have led, and wanting to do something about it. It was crazy, but once the kids were all safe at the station, and social services had been called, he felt the urge to keep them all there. “I'll take her in,” he had told the lady from social services, another blonde. “I've got plenty of income, an extra room, and extra house even,” he blabbered a bit. “My wife and I are separated, but I've—“ but the blonde lady was already shaking her head.

“It doesn't work that way,” she had said with too much understanding. “You saved her, Chief Hopper. You're responsible for that, but not for her.” She touched his arm from across his office desk. A long silence passed, and she withdrew her hand. “She has family, an aunt. The courts like these things to stay within families, and I'll be handling her case.” But her words barely reached him, and in a moment she broke to offer him a silver lining. “Listen, Jim,” and he met her eyes once more. “It's the best thing for her, truly. And if her family is unfit,” she smiled. “Well, we always prefer a willing guardian to the foster system.”

He snapped back into the moment with Murray. “Yeah,” he said with confidence. “She's in the wind. Maybe not happy, but safe and sound.” Murray nodded. He stayed in silence with Hopper for a minute or so more, then slowly walked out of the room. Gathering his hat and coat by the door, he left without another word.

And Hopper sat, thinking of the mistake he had just made, though deep down knowing that Murray would never breathe a word. Eventually, he got up and headed to his study. And he thought about Jane Ives, and his own daughter, and his town, Hawkins. Was he truly a black hole, ruining everything that got too close to him? If so, Jane had escaped for the better.

He sat at his home office desk, and began pouring through files filled that were filled with information on the Brenner and Ives families. “_But so help me, god,_” Hopper resolved to himself, “_if the tree is as rotten as the branch, I'll make sure that girl survives. . .and finds happiness._”

**Prologue: Eleven**

She tried not to think much about her previous life, or even the events of over two years ago. It was Spring; and she had a new name now, Jane Ives, so why should she not be a new person? Papa never treated her like a person: she never knew much, but she knew early that she had a number, not a name. It was a promise even, given to her at birth. Papa had explained on each of her birthdays for as far back as she could remember, when she was forced to go out and find a replacement—after which she was given a new name—for every child, another year, until she failed to do as he asked. She had been Eleven for a year: the year she finally understood his explanations and understood what a monster he was . . . that she was.

The truth stared back at her from that boys eyes: such kind and brave eyes, before he saw the shadow behind her, reaching out to grab them both. And she ran, into the rain and cold and harshness of the world she had never been allowed to see. Papa brought her out only once a year, and she never ventured far from the car whenever he took her hunting far from the cabin. She did not know if help could be found, but she knew that the boy would die if she went back with them. . .that she would die one day at Papa's hands.

She passed out several times in those woods, not knowing who or what she was running toward. But the sun had only set once more, when she found them: Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. If she thought of those days, she tried to think of them. . .of Mike. How could it all fall together as it did? They were looking for the boy—for Will—and had found her. And she wanted to tell them, to help desperately, but could not find the words. She had only ever spoken to Papa, and even then only a few words at meals and perhaps a bit more on her birthdays, when he would seem unable to stop talking about the importance of the yearly ritual.

But there was more. Fighting with her desperation, with the need she felt to save Will and stop her father, was the pure fear of being abandoned, or worse being sent back to her prison. Once she understood that the three boys were hell bent on finding their friend over all else, she feared that they would hate her: for her part in the danger Will was in, for insisting that he was still alive after they found that body in the lake, for being a monster like her father. And what would happen when they found out? They could leave her—trade her—beat her—kill her. So she led them into the woods, like they asked, toward her cabin to find their friend. But never to it. . .never into the hunting zone. She may not be able to save Will, but she would not lead her new friends into danger. “Friends”: they had taught her that word. It meant people you kept safe, and who made you happy, and who you would never lie to or hide from. And even if they hated her in the end, she would not lead her friends to Papa.

They, of course, realized that the party was going nowhere—they knew the woods better than she ever had. Lucas had called her a liar, saying she betrayed them. Dustin recognized she was scared, but behind his eyes she could see that he did not, would not, trust her. And Mike had defended her, protected her, and insisted that she was only trying to help. But when Lucas pushed her, and fought with Mike, her eyes flashed bright and she remembered those most awful of nights with Papa. Those nights he came to her basement room and held her down. And she lunged at Lucas, wrenching him off of Mike and throwing him against the scrap metal with a strength that shocked them all.

“What is wrong with you!?” Mike screamed at her, as Lucas went off. And in a moment, the other two left as well, and she was alone again. She began to wander in the clothes and wig Mike had dressed her in. Alone with her thoughts of the past week: sleeping in Mike's basement, following Dustin's plans, going to school, and so many more new things the boys had shown her. She would give anything to be with them again, even if they hated her. And as if in answer to her thoughts as she knelt by that pool of rain water, she heard Dustin and Mike calling for her.

And she was running again, this time toward a concrete goal. And she heard their yells, and saw in the distance: Papa. He was closing in on them, alongside the cliff that loomed over the quarry, holding a large knife. “Go on, boys,” he motioned toward the cliff edge with the knife. “It will hurt, but not nearly as much as staying.” Eleven could see Mike's limp, as one of his arms was slung over Dustin who seemed to be supporting most of his weight. “Go on, it's the only way.” And as he walked closer, Mike and Dustin stopped at the edge, looking back at the massive drop.

He was nearly upon them now, relishing the fear in their faces and leaning close to the boys—peaking over the edge himself. He clicked his tongue, and shook his head slowly. “I'm so sorry, boys. I never meant—” Then Papa was flying. . .falling down into the water. It was the only thing to do, she remembered thinking, as she ran up to her friends and pushed her father with all her might. She had nearly fallen off herself; but Dustin had let go of Mike to grab her, and both boys had dragged her away from the edge when it became clear that she had no strength left in her legs to move herself.

Next thing she knew, she was lying on that hard, dirt floor, looking into Mike's face. “El! Please, El. We're ok: you're ok!” She roused at the nickname he had given her. . .to find that she was crying: mourning the loss of Papa, and of everything she ever was or had ever known.

“I'm sorry, Mike. You all were right. . .I'm the monster.” She finally admitted, feeling the weight of that revelation lifting from her shoulders, only to be replaced with the loneliness of having no one—family or friends—to comfort her.

But only for a moment. Mike shook his head as he held her. “No. No, El. You're not the monster. You saved me. Do you understand? You saved us.” And Dustin came close, nodding his head and moving his arms to hug them both. She held them close, and allowed the relief to come—hoping that she truly had saved them, and that they had saved her.

The next two days were a blur. Mike had tried taking her back to his home, only to find police parked in his parent's driveway. Instead, Dustin took her to the school to wait for word from Mike. He met them after-dark, along with Lucas, and explained that someone had broken into his parent's house that day. The party reconciled with more apologizes and tears, and came up with a plan to protect El from the consequences of what she had done at the quarry, and to find and save Will once and for all. But she could not remember much of what they decided—only the long wait for the chief of police to arrive after they had made a few calls on the AV club's radio.

Mike had stayed with her the whole time, as the others carried out the plan. He spoke mostly of the future, and the many things she would be able to do now. Like have a proper bed, and live with a proper family (his family), and go to school. “My point is,” he finished, “they'll take care of you. They'll be like your new parents, and Nancy, she'll be like your new sister.”

“Will you be like my brother?” she asked, warming to the idea quickly, as happiness filled her insides.

“What? No, no,” he quickly protested.

And her heart stopped. “Why 'no'?”

“Because,” Mike sighed loudly. “'cause it's different. . . I mean, I don't know, I guess it's not. It's stupid.”

She breathed in deeply. She believed him when he said she was not a monster. He did not lie then, but. . .

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Friends don't lie,” she proclaimed: something else he had taught her in that short week. It was like a mantra or a talisman that connected them beyond reason.

He sighed again, and relented. “Well, I was thinking—I don't know—maybe we can go to the Snow Ball together.” He continued in response to her puzzled look. “It's this cheesy school dance, where you go in the gym and dance to music and stuff. I've never been, but I know you're not supposed to go with your sister. . .I mean you can, but it'd be really weird.” He also took in a deep breathe, and went on. “You go to school dances with someone that, you know, someone that you like.”

“A friend,” she agreed.

“Not a friend,” he answered quickly. “Uh. . .uh. . .Uh,” he stammered. “Someone like a—” and he leaned in too quickly for her to react. Their lips pressed together for a moment, and her mind went white again. But when he pulled away, she found herself smiling.

A few hours later, it was all over. The chief had come; Will was found; and the next morning she was taken out of Hawkins by a blonde-haired woman with a kind smile and warm hands. Her friends were not with her then, so she held close the flannel that Mike had given her last night in the gym and closed her eyes the entire car ride. . .trying to imprint their faces in her mind.

Now, it seemed like a lifetime had passed. In a little over a year, she had everything Mike had promised with her aunt. . .then the next year, when she would not have her, with a foster family. . .and another. . .and another. She had a bed, or at the worst, a cot. And she had brothers and sisters, though not for very long. And she home-schooled with kids her age at the rec. center in the city. She never really felt attached to anyone or any place—even her aunt, which is maybe why Becky had given Jane up. And she never really thought of any of her foster families as home, or made any true friends. So she kept to herself, barely speaking, but always listening and learning and reading—catching up, wanting to be normal, and maybe deep down, day-dreaming about going to a real school. _'High School. . .I'd be in high school, like my friends. . .like Mike_'. Somewhere—she hoped still—Jane had friends that thought of her once and a while, if only as “El”. All of it felt so far away.

But now all those memories came rushing back, as she sat in the Social Services' office with that same blonde-haired woman, and the chief from Hawkins whom she had met only briefly. They were explaining the choice she had in front of her: the opportunity for a real home. “With you?” she asked, looking over at the man, who at the moment was out of his police uniform.

He nodded solemnly. “With me,” he agreed. “It would mean going back to Hawkins. And I know—we both know that could be very painful for you, but it would—”

“—promise?” she cut in. The two adults looked at each other with puzzled faces spotted with slight bemusement. “Do you promise, Jim Hopper? That I can live with you in Hawkins? Forever?” Her face was expressionless, but her heart beat a mile-a-minute.

The woman smiled, and Jim Hopper took the young girl's hand. “Just Hopper, or Jim,” he insisted. “And yes, for as long as you want.”

**Prologue: Mike**

It was stupid: so stupid. 353 days of talking to an imaginary friend and not once had he ever thought about how completely stupid he was being. Mike had not always done the best in school—only this last semester he had been in and out of detention for vandalism, skipping periods, and cheating off of Dustin—but he had control over his small world through his understanding and intuition. He was the Dungeon Master, and Hawkins was his domain—and he hated that feeling of embarrassing stupidity.

And what's worse, it had been Nancy who had caught him. Sure, she had become more bearable since she ditched Steve Harrington and started going out with Will's brother, Jonathan; but the sheer embarrassment of having to explain to her why he was talking to himself every night made him both sad and angry. He could have lied to his parents easy enough—and in fact he had a few near misses with his mom, who had a habit of waiting at doors and listening before coming inside—but Nancy was having none of that the night she find out.

“I'm just talking to myself!” Mike insisted. “I'm in my room, so what does it matter?”

“Cut it, Mike!” Nancy raised her voice in response, but not unkindly. “You're eyes are red, and you're clearly talking about Will. Just,” she steadied herself, and moved a step closer to sit on the edge of his bed. “Just talk to me. Come on, we use to talk, right?”

Mike relented, more out of exhaustion than frustration; he suspected that Nancy had the same habit as their mom, and that this was not the first time she had heard him. “I'm. . .it's stupid, ok?” Mike threw out his hands and looked at Nancy with a plea in his eyes. “I know that, ok? So just—don't say anything to mom and dad.” Nancy nodded and waited for him to continue. “So yeah,” he paused awkwardly. “I was talking about Will, but that's not why I—I was,” and he wiped his eyes and nose a bit with his sleeve. “I talk about a lot of things: school, the guys, anything, and . . . everything.”

“To who, Mike?” Nancy urged.

Mike looked determinedly at the floor. “I talk to El.”

Something shook in Nancy memory, but she could not grasp the name or connect it to a face. “Ok,” Nancy encouraged. “Is that a friend, or . . .” Absurdly, she thought of the make-believe games Mike played in the basement—which she herself had been a part of once or twice—and wondered if this “El” was one of those character.

Mike sighed and rolled his eyes a bit. “Yes, I mean she was. . .a friend, for a little while.”

“El is a girl,” Nancy responded, with a little too much knowing in her tone.

“The girl from last year,” Mike finally admitted, “from when Will went missing.”

“Oh,” Nancy remembered. She had never actually met the girl, but she had seen her in passing when she went to pick up Mike from the police station the night Will was found in that man's basement. “Is she,” Nancy looked around the room, “still close? On the walkie—”

“No!” Mike gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to lessen the pain of the admission. “I don't know where she is.” And he felt the tears forming again at the corners of his eyes. “I don't know if she's ok, or if she's happy, or alive or dead, or—”

“Woah, hey,” Nancy stretched out her arms to bring Mike closer. “Mike, it's alright. I understand. . .I understand now.”

“You don't!” Mike shot up away from her. “Lucas, Dustin, and Will: none of them understand, and neither do you.” His voice was back to normal, and the anger seemed to crush the impending sadness. “I can't explain it, but—but,” he took a deep breathe. “When we found her, it was like a brave, new world.” He remembered a novel he had read over summer break. “Everything I knew faded away, and my life started again. And this time it felt real: real pain, and real sadness, and real laughter, and real. . .”

Mike's voice trailed off. Nancy looked at him for a long time in silence. She did understand, at least a little. All teenagers feel this sort of awakening, she thought. She had realized later than him: how unhappy her parents were; how small her town was; how fleeting most relationships proved to be; and all the childhood fantasies of innocence that everyone lost sooner or later. '_But it was so sudden for him, and so young'_, Nancy frowned. Her brother had it forced upon him, along with the near death of his closest friend, the inhumanity of that Doctor who took Will, and it seemed, his first love.

“You miss her, Mike.” Nancy was up too now, pulling him closer again. “You care about her, now and then. And you could do something before. . .and now you can't.” She pulled away a bit to look straight at him. “And it sucks,” her voice cracked, as a tear came to her eye. She nodded, “I understand that. And I won't tell anyone.”

Mike nodded back, and awkwardly broke free from the hug. He was grateful for her understanding, but when she left, he threw himself onto his bed all the same. It was so, so stupid. '_If I could just see her. . .once, and know she is ok_', Mike chided himself. He had promised to keep her safe; he had promised so many things about the future, and just assumed he would be around to see it through. And none of that mattered now: it was useless. . .he was useless. '_But if she is ok, then I would be ok too_'.

“El,” Mike said to the empty room, or as he thought of it, to his imaginary friend—his phantom El, sitting at the edge of his bed with her sly smile and bold stare: ready and waiting every night to hear about his day. “You need to be ok, ok? We're so far apart. . .and you'll never be here again.” The tears were coming back again, but he let them stream down his face freely. It made his vision opaque, and the phantom at the edge of his bed began to disappear. “And I won't be talking to you again, because I need to be ok too. And you were always so brave and strong,” Mike nearly choked, wiping his face clean with the tissues from the bedside table. “But not me,” he breathed out. “Still, I'm gonna be ok, and so will you. No matter how far apart, we're doing it together. So I won't worry about you anymore,” the phantom was gone when Mike looked up, and he forced himself to smile. “And you don't need to hear from me. Goodbye, El.”

The next few months were the hardest, and many times Mike still caught himself thinking about El—and thinking about what he would say to her, if he had not promised himself to not speak the words aloud. But with the new year came a new determination. He could never forget what had happened to him and his friends: Will was still visiting the hospital every month for talk sessions and physicals, and the experience had only brought the two boys closer together. Even so, Mike fought hard to fill his friends' days with fun and to keep looking toward the future. And though his grades did not quite recover during Junior High—and his parent's trust in him was not completely restored—when his freshman year began, Mike never felt more excited for his high school career.


	2. Fresh Start

Jane had missed almost an entire month of school, which filled her with panic despite Hopper's insistence that: “it won't make much of a difference. Caught up this much, right?” He had smiled with a pride that caught her off guard. “Besides, we need to be ready.”

It turned out that her new guardian had two houses, both equally remote from the center of Hawkins where the schools and businesses sat. Hopper had decided to continue to use his grandfather's cabin as a storage unit both because he did not want to encourage any association with her old life and because his lake-side (if you could call that seasonal pond a lake) track home actually had two bedrooms. The problem was Hopper had no idea how to decorate for a teenage girl, let alone one that had lived such a peculiar life. So although he had moved all of his supplies and general mess to either the cabin or his work office, at the beginning of July when Jane came to live with him, he had left her new room completely bare.

“I was thinking we could spend the summer uh. . .well, decorating,” he told her awkwardly, as she stepped into the room with her backpack and small suitcase. Both were filled with a few outfits, books, and small keepsakes that she had accrued: it was all she had in the world till this moment. “I got more than a little savings, and it's all yours, kid, if—oof!”

Hopper took a sharp intake of breathe, as Jane turned and rushed to throw her arms around his torso. She held him for dear life, afraid her legs would give out. “It's too much,” she breathed into his chest. Slowly, he put his arms around her too.

“Yeah,” Hopper was at a loss, and they stood there for a long while. Jane had never cried easily, and even then when she thought that her heart might stop for joy and sheer relief, she only needed to squeeze tighter. Jim Hopper seemed like the most solid thing in the world at that moment, and eventually she righted herself.

Jane slept on the couch for the first few nights, till they were able to go into town and buy her a mattress, along with other bedding, a dresser, and a bedside table. Within the next month, she also had a bookcase somewhat filled with two dozen or so second-hand books—some chosen by Hopper, and some Jane had heard her foster siblings and other kids mention that seemed interesting. Next, Hopper made sure that she had what-he-called “essential” clothing: thick winter coats and gloves and socks; two pairs of denim jeans; and a couple long-sleeved flannels (like the one she still had from Mike) to layer her outfits on those odd weather days. As for school supplies, everyday clothes, and “other girl stuff”, the chief felt a little more than useless.

“See if you can make do for a while with what you have. I know this place is a little out of the way, and as you probably caught on, work keeps me away most days.” There was a pregnant silence after those words, as both Jane and Hopper reflected on just how isolated and alone this girl was now. At least in her foster homes, there was always someone around, often close to her own age. And even if they did not get along, or interact at all, sometimes another person's presence was enough to comfort Jane and keep those memories of her old life at bay.

Now, she would have to sit with unbidden thoughts for hours on end, just like when Papa had kept her in the basement for weeks—only letting her out for family dinners, or occasionally out of some odd grace or pity.

“But we'll go out on weekends,” Hopper was speaking again. “We'll get some food, get you familiar with the town, and even see a movie or two. In the meantime, I got an idea on who can help us out with shopping. How does that sound?” He forced a smile.

She did the same and nodded.

And so August was a hard month for Jane, though in hindsight not completely wasted. Hopper managed to register her for the coming school year, and with his pull as chief of police, the school agreed to set her class schedule as early as possible and get her the schoolbooks she needed. His plan was to start her attendance a month late to make sure she completely settled into her new home, and to see if she could actually keep up with the high-school curriculum. The latter turned out to not be much of an issue. With all her free time, Jane managed to get through most of the textbooks for Social Studies, Algebra, and Biology—despite watching, almost obsessively, day-time soaps on Hopper's TV. Those were her worst subjects, and she wanted to grasp as much as she could now, before being put to the test. She did not quite know what to expect from Physical Education, and had no idea what Home Economics was, but she was at least confident that she could get through English literature. She had already read two of the books on the class curriculum, and Hopper glanced over the rest to assure her that the writing assignments would be the hard part of the class, not the reading itself. As such, Hopper had strongly suggested not taking a foreign language, as she was only starting to grasp the nuances of English grammar and syntax. On that advice, Jane had picked almost at random a typing class for her final period.

However, some days Jane could not focus. She alternated between extreme, impatient excitement at starting her new, more permanent life in Hawkins and the chance to live in peace with family and friends—these visions always involved her in a basement lounge, laughing with shifting figures who resembled what she could remember of Will, Lucas, Dustin, and Mike—and a desperate sadness at the idea that she would always be the girl trapped, isolated, and alone. . .that she deserved to be alone. . .that she needed to be alone to protect everyone from the monster, looming over her forever and always.

She never let Hopper see either of these sides. When he came home, she put on her smile, so well practiced for nearly three years: a look that showed gratitude and appreciation, but also contrite humility. She always made sure to tell him how happy she was, and how well her day went. She never lied about the loneliness or lingering sadness—“friend don't lie”, she always remembered, and Hopper was her father and friend now—but she never offered more than he asked. And he seemed satisfied, always saying that it would get better soon.

Always soon, especially when school started: “I'm sure you'll have a blast,” he smiled across the small table. They were eating another TV dinner. “And hey, guess what?”

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Next weekend, September 7th, I got someone to help us out with shopping. An old friend,” he explained. “Her name is Joyce Byers, and she works at a convenience store in town. She was also the most popular girl in school when I was your age, so ya know.” Hopper tried to find the words. “Should be able to steer you in the right direction, as far as fashion goes.”

Jane nodded, though there was a nagging feeling in her gut. “Joyce Byers,” she repeated to Hopper, and he seemed to understand.

“Yeah,” he played with his food, not making eye contact. He kicked himself for trying to sneak this one by. The girl's stare was as keen as her instincts. '_Might make a good cop,_' he smiled the slightest bit at the thought. “She's the mother of Will Byers, the kid, who ah—well,” Hopper returned her gaze.

“. . .who papa took,” Jane finished. They sat in silence for a few minutes: Jane in a daze, and Hopper finishing his meal.

“You can hide here if you want,” Hopper said, and Jane snapped out of it to look at him again. “We're out of the way, like I've been saying; and we can stay that way, you and me. Hide away from Hawkins and the rest of the world, if that's what you want, kid. But I've been doing that for years,” Hopper frowned, remembering his old life. “I don't want that for you, so I've been taking it nice and slow. School starts this week, but I think you can see right now that we're not ready for that. But you know the town now, the where and when for all the things someone your age needs to know: movies, diners, school, the library, the police station, even that new mall.” Hopper waved off the last one and paused a moment.

Jane interjected, “Does she know?” She was trying hard to control her breathing, and asked again. “Know it's me?”

“No,” Hopper said firmly. “I haven't and won't tell anyone. And I think you should do the same.” She gave him a quizzical, almost offended look. “Those memories are painful for you, and they're painful for everyone else too. The Byers, the Wheeler kid, and his friends: I don't think anyone holds it against you, Jane. I really don't. But why bring it up sooner than you need too? It's only gonna cause more pain.” Hopper paused, hoping that the sense in his words would stick in her mind. “When you make friends—close friends, Jane—then you'll _want_ to talk about it, I promise. That's what friends are for: to make life a little easier—”

“--to keep you safe. . .make you happy. . .friend's don't lie or hide.” Jane remembered and despite herself smiled. “Ok,” she agreed. She felt some strange certainty in keeping this secret, as if it was a promise that she would have close friends to share it with. . .one day. . .soon.

* * *

The first month of freshman year was more underwhelming than Mike had hoped, but at least he and his friends were not teased as much as they were in Junior High. In fact, the looks of disgust from the student body that accompanied them as nerds were gone as well. The old bullies were still there—like Troy and James, chief among them—but the sheer amount of students who came to Hawkins High school from different parts of the County, granted everyone an amount of anonymity. But also, there was Max, the newest edition to their party.

Mike had been slow to warm up to the red-haired girl because he felt that she was pulling him and all his friends away from everything that had first drawn them together. For one thing, Max did not read comics (at least, not the ones that he did), and she was always insisting that they go to the movies—and from there sneak into horror or other R-rated films. She also never heard of DnD, spending most of her spare time at the new mall or the arcade, and Mike was decidedly not good at (most) video games. Finally, she was the most half-hearted member of the AV club, and often pulled Lucas and Dustin away to teach them how to skateboard.

And if he was being a hundred percent honest, Max's inclusion into their party felt like his friend's attempt to fill the place he was secretly saving for El. But he had let that go, and after a long discussion with Will wherein he confessed his “talks” with El over that past year, he began to give her a real chance. Not long after, she had proved herself a true friend twice-over. Max acted as a natural deterrent for bullies their own age, who she either laughed at or fought off if they even looked in their direction. She also stood up to her own half-brother when he had threatened them during their last year of Junior High. Max had seen him throw Lucas against his car and pin him there from the field across the parking lot. She had grabbed a bat and skated over before Billy had a chance to really hurt any of them.

“I swear to God, Billy!” She yelled with both her hands gripping the bat and taking aim at his car's tail light. “You touch or even talk to my friends again, and you can break my arm for all I care! I swear I'll take my hits out where it hurts the most.” And she swung, causing Billy to jump, release Lucas, and swear; but Max stopped the bat less than an inch from his car, as the P.E. Teacher started to come and investigate the commotion.

If Billy sought retribution some other way afterwards, Mike never knew. Max considered the matter settled, and the party solidified, having to deal with Billy only on those odd weekends when Max would consent to play in their DnD campaign with them, and he then had to pick her up.

As penance, Mike created a specialty class for her in their game—the Zoomer, something she had suggested as a joke when they first butted heads. Max smiled all the same and took to the game quickly, though it was clear that she only played to spend time with them. . .Lucas, in particular. Though Dustin had fought the hardest to get Max accepted into the party, not too long after, Mike figured out that neither his nor Lucas's intentions were entirely pure. By the time they entered High School, it was clear to everyone that Max's feelings for Lucas went beyond friendship. Forever the peace-maker, Dustin accepted the reality gracefully enough and apparently had a private conversation with Lucas about it. Still, there was no reason to remind or provoke him, so Mike and Will never teased the young couple in Dustin's presence.

So Mike and his friends entered high school a little more independent than they had ever been: Lucas and Max shared most of their classes, and often paired off after school to hang out at the arcade; Mike and Will had science and math together, and with Dustin they had started visiting Ms. Beyer's boyfriend Bob at the Radioshack in town. Ultimately, Dustin became the glue who brought them all together at lunch, during AV club, and on the weekends. A part of Mike hated this gradual drifting apart, but most of the time he recognized it as natural and worked to further everyone's individual goals—romantic, academic, or otherwise—for the good of the party.

That Monday, at the end of September, Mike was currently preoccupied with Will's dilemma. Jonathan had been accepted to NYU, which meant Will was without his brother for the first time—Mike new they were much closer than him and Nancy. Not only that, the cost of Jonathan's tuition meant that Will's mom might not be able to afford the same opportunity for him when he graduated. Bob Newby was the answer, as far as Mike was concerned. He was great with Will, and if they became a real family, then Will's future would be secure. But that was out of Mike's control. So as the homeroom teacher droned on like always for the first fifteen minutes of the school day, Mike ground his teeth absentmindedly. . .till Lucas shoved him.

“What?” he hissed, as Lucas motioned to the front. Mike looked forward to see the whole class shooting him glances, and the homeroom teacher looking at him with an exhausted glare.

“With us now, Mr. Wheeler?” Ms. Castle asked, adjusting her glasses.

“Sorry,” Mike said automatically. “Tired.”

“Mm-hm,” she intoned with disbelief. “Your sister was kind enough to chaperon new, transfer students when she was in my class. I was hoping you would be as gracious.”

“Who?” Mike was still in a daze. Lucas kicked him under the desk. “Yeah, I mean. Who am I—where is he?”

A few of his classmates snickered, but Ms. Castle ignored them and answered. “_She_ should be here shortly, as I have just explained. Mr. Sinclair,” she accused, and Lucas sat up straighter. The students sat two to a desk, which were long enough that Lucas had hoped to have adequate cover from the teacher's gaze, but not enough it seemed. “Though I appreciate your intervention, I do not encourage violence in my class. Go sit next to Mr. Henderson, which shouldn't be much of a punishment, I'm sure.” Dustin moved his backpack off the seat next to him, and Lucas sat down defeated.

At that moment, the class door opened, and Principle Murphy entered with a girl who had short, brown hair. She was wearing worn, denim jeans with rips at the knees, a white leopard-print sweater, and Converse high-tops. Mike could already see the girls whispering—catching a few words about her outfit and the shortness of her hair—but the guys seemed not to mind. She was cute, but apart from that Mike felt an immediate familiarity that put him off guard, wondering to himself if it was her eyes: they seemed to take in everyone and everything in the room as if she was seeing the most interesting scene in the world.

“Welcome, Principle Murphy,” the teacher greeted.

“Morning, Ms. Castle,” she responded, as she handed the teacher some forms. “I think you can take it from here. Goodbye for now, Jane,” she turned to the girl, touching her shoulder affectionately and walking out.

“Goodbye,” Jane said. Hearing her voice, that pang of familiarity sounded again somewhere inside Mike.

“Class,” Ms. Castle demanded their attention. “This is Jane Hopper, our new transfer student. You have wonderful timing, Jane,” she said kindly, turning to the girl. “We just found you a student-guide, who will help you find your classes and otherwise navigate our school. But before that, why don't you introduce yourself?”

Jane nodded and turned to the class. “I am Jane,” she started and paused for a long moment. “I live with Chief Jim Hopper now, and . . .” She was scanning the room, locking eyes with a few students till she finally landed on Mike in the far corner. Her meek, plain expression gave way to an open smile as she took a deep breathe. “I'm back,” she finished, keeping her eyes locked on Mike, who felt a blush under his cheeks despite himself.

“You lived in Hawkins before, you mean?” Ms. Castle clarified. Another pause, during which the whole class had followed the new girl's eye line and fixed their collective gaze on Mike.

Jane turned to face the teacher. “Yes,” she answered.

“Well,” Ms. Castle sensed this was as good as it was going to get. '_Poor, shy girl_,' she thought. “Go ahead and take the seat by Mr. Wheeler,” she gestured. “Mike will be your guide for today, but feel free to call on him anytime this year, if you should need anything school-related.”

Jane nodded and headed for the seat. Mike sat up and scooted over to give the new girl plenty of room, while the teacher finished the announcements for the day. “Hi, Mike,” Jane said, not a moment after she had taken her seat.

He was sure of it now: her brown eyes were deep and bright like honey. . .and disarming. This time he managed to break eye contact and say, “Hi. Uh, let me look at your schedule.” Jane had it in hand, and slid it to his side of the desk. For the last minutes of homeroom, Mike started looking it over and coming up with a plan. However, it was hard to concentrate because he could see out of the corner of his eye that the girl was staring at him, paying as little mind to the teacher as he had earlier.

The bell rang, and the students started crowding out of the class, except the four who walked over to where Mike and Jane sat.

“Hi, Jane,” the curly-haired boy with the warm smile got out first. “I'm Dustin. We're all friends with Mike,” he explained, pointing to himself, the other two boys, and the red-haired girl.

“I'm Will,” the smaller boy said. Jane held her breathe, trying not to give her sudden panic away. She desperately hoped that she could have met them one at a time, but she supposed that having the chance to meet Mike so quickly was as much good luck as she could hope for.

“Lucas,” the other boy sounded off as well. “Did you say you're from Hawkins?”

But before Jane could answer, the red-haired girl held out her hand. “Hi, Jane. I'm Max. You can ask me about anything too, if Mike is giving you a hard time.” They shook hands, but Jane was a little annoyed at the girl's implication. Max was smiling at her and Mike, as she shot the latter a teasing look.

Mike ignored her, stood up, and pointed down at her schedule with his pencil. She could see names written next to each of her classes, as well as a few sentences at the bottom of the paper. “That's enough, guys. We gotta get going. So look here,” he began, once he had everyone's attention. “Jane has Biology, History, and P.E. before lunch.”

“Ooo, rough start,” Lucas commented.

“It's fine,” Dustin dismissed him. “I got Biology too, Jane. Everyone else has Health, so we can be lab partners if you want.”

“Right,” Mike nodded. “You can show her there and to Mr. Lewis's room for History with Lucas and Max.” Mike pointed at them with his pencil, and they nodded.

“And she's gonna have P.E. with the rest of the girls, so I can get her to lunch,” Max chimed in, and Mike nodded. “You can sit with us for lunch too, Jane.”

Mike seemed indifferent at this suggestion, but barreled on. “I can take it from there, guys. She has Algebra with Will and I, and English with me. Sorry, but your last classes are Home Econ. and Typing. I'll get you to the first, and wait for you at the lockers to show you where the typing room is; but for the most part you'll be on your own.”

“Don't be so dramatic, Mike,” Max teased.

“Yeah, look at her! She's clearly gonna make friends quickly,” Dustin said knowingly. All of them could see how cute the new girl was, and her unique fashion choices would attract attention, good or bad.

Mike hit him and said, “Knock it off.” The bell rang, and the kids gathered up their things. Jane followed suit mechanically—totally confused by that last exchange. Why did Mike think she would not make friends? “C'mon, Jane,” he said and started marching off.

She followed the party to the lockers, and watched as they all split off. As Mike showed her how to set the combination on her locker, Dustin came back over to lead her to Biology. “And this one's mine,” Mike pointed it out. She noted that since she had sat down in homeroom, he had not really looked at her, nor made eye contact. “You can look for me between classes, if you can't find the others. Or if ah—like the teacher said—you need something. So,” he paused, checking his bag and patting Dustin on the back, “I gotta go.”

But before he could turn and walk off, he felt a hand grab his elbow with a surprising amount of force; and he heard a soft voice say, “Mike.”

His heart stopped, and his body along with it. And as he turned to face the new girl, he saw the phantom El that had sat at the edge of his bed for so many nights. For a crazy moment, they were the same girl. . .but the vision faded as quickly as it came. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said with fierce sincerity. He nodded and continued on.

“Don't mind him,” Dustin reassured her. “He's the shy one. Not me though,” Dustin pushed her gently down the hallway, and the two made for the science lab.

* * *

“Holy smokes, you can run.” Max commented as P.E. finished, and she followed Jane off the track field into the girls' locker room. “You play any sports at your old school?”

“No,” Jane panted.

'_One word all day with this one,_' but Max bit her tongue.

To be honest, the girl was already starting to get on her nerves. She was unable to tell if she was an airhead, stuck-up, or just plain weird. On the other hand, at least Max knew that she was not being singled out. Jane had introduced herself to the class in History as well, and the new girl had given the same awkward performance as homeroom. And when Mr. Lewis had called on her for a few dates and names for the lesson, she had that same stuttered, awkwardly-timed cadence.

Lucky for her, Mr. Lewis was more interested in hearing himself talk than actual answers, which he often supplied himself. He was an older gentlemen and hardly paid the class any mind unless they were openly talking during his lectures. So the other girls sitting near Jane took the opportunity to prod her with a few questions, and she had answered them all with little more than a single word.

“Where'd you get those jeans?” Liz had asked.

“Goodwill,” she answered, and some snickered in response.

“How long have you had your hair short?” A girl that Max did not recognize followed up.

“Always,” Jane said simply.

“You're the chief's daughter?” Lucas had butt in, before Max could stop him. Funny enough, that question seemed to give Jane pause.

“I—I'm—”

“Bit personal for class, don't ya think, stalker?” Max cut in before Jane could finish. “The rest of you, buzz off,” Max snapped at the girls.

“Who asked you?” Liz scoffed, but the questions stopped all the same.

One thing was for sure, the new girl attracted attention wherever she went. Max lost her after History when she stopped to scold Lucas again for prying into Jane's business. “Not everyone has a happy, little family, stupid,” Max had snapped. And when she looked back to lead Jane to P.E., she was surrounded by a different group of girls, who were all chatting at top speed.

From what Max caught, they were more interested in treating Jane like a new toy than a person: making comments on her appearance, and asking questions without really waiting for or listening to Jane's responses. Then Max noticed that they were all girls who had witnessed the odd homeroom scene this morning. As if on cue, the tallest girl asked out of nowhere. “So how do you know that loser, Mike Wheeler? You said you lived here before, right?”

“Loser?” Jane repeated.

'_Shit_,' Max thought, as she rushed to intervene.

But before she could get close, Jane had given the girl a harsh look up and down, said “mouth-breather” in a firm tone, and walked off. The look on each of the girls' faces was identical and priceless.

Max caught up and whispered to Jane, “Holy hell, that was brutal.”

Jane whipped her head sideways and gave her the same harsh look before recognizing her. “Oh,” she responded, turning slightly red. “Not nice.”

“Bitches,” Max agreed. “They weren't wrong though, Jane.” The new girl's face was inscrutable, but Max had her attention. “Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, and even me: we're losers—at least, to people like them.”

“Like them?” Jane did not understand.

“Cheerleaders, jocks, normies, all of em,” Max listed off. “We don't care about being popular, so that makes us losers.”

“Popular?” Jane thought for a moment on the word. “No one. . .likes you?” Jane asked innocently.

“Well,” Max was taken aback at the girl's bluntness. “I guess they don't even think about us, and we don't think about them. But they take it so personally, ya know? As if high school is the most important thing in the world; but we know its not. It's hard to explain, I guess.”

Jane seemed to be listening, but did not respond. So Max talked on, trying to get the new girl to open up, all throughout their next period. Once P.E. was over, and Max was headed out of the locker room to lunch, she had lost Jane again. _'Shit!_' The party was gonna be pissed. They were all awkward dorks, but Max could tell right off the bat that they were trying hard to be friends with Jane. '_Not that I have room to talk—I've been bending over backwards for hours_.'

This time Max found her cornered by some boys in the hallway outside the gymnasium. One among the five—the taller, blonde kid that she recognized as a pitcher on the baseball team—had his hand leaned on the wall behind Jane's head, and was entirely too close for comfort in Max's opinion. “I'm Kevin.”

'_The alpha-douche_,' Max thought; but she was interested to see how this played out. '_What's this new girl into?_' After all, it was not fair that the party got to monopolize her company, just because they talked to her first. If she wanted to make friends with other people, then why not let her?

“I was in homeroom and your Biology class,” Max heard him say. “Tough luck getting stuck with Dustin in labs. That geek got left out at the beginning of the year when we chose partners—not like he needs it. So how about I talk to Mr. Gayle, and you can pair with me instead? James here wouldn't mind partnering with Toothless. They're old buddies from middle-school, right?” The blonde boy looked back at the fatter of his two brown-haired friends behind him, who smirked mischievously and let out an oafish chuckle.

“Toothless,” Jane repeated quietly to herself. The insult jumped out in her memory: a gymnasium where Mike had picked a fight with two boys for laughing during the school assembly given when Will was presumed dead. She had jumped at them before the principle could intervene. Mike had grabbed her by the hand and ran her away, as those two boys hurled insults at them. “_Freak! Frogface! Toothless!_” She could recall with absolute clarity. “James. . .and you're Troy,” she ignored Kevin to address the two brown-haired boys behind him.

James ceased his chuckle, and Troy answered, “Yeah!” The boy seemed over joyed to be given attention over his blonde friend. “Wanna sit with us at lunch?”

“No,” Jane spoke clearly, turning back to Kevin. “I'm fine,” and she began to walk away toward Max.

“Hi, Jane,” Max said playfully. The girl looked up to really see her, as a wash of relief softened her usual stoic expression. “Still wanna join me and the other losers for lunch?”

“Please,” Jane managed to get out. She felt really embarrassed about the whole situation: wandering off from the red-haired girl who was clearly just trying to be kind; and having to talk with people who seemed to have no interest in what she actual said. She was so much worse than she had expected at normal conversation.

The two girls walked in silence to the cafeteria, giving Jane plenty of time to soak in her disappointment and humiliation over how the first half of this day was going. The words were right there behind her tongue every time someone spoke to her, but she could not for the life of her get them to come out. When her turn to speak came, Jane's head would go a bit fuzzy, and she could only manage simple responses. '_If only they would give me a moment, I could say more,_' she told herself. '_I just need to practice._' That's what Hopper and Miss Byers had told her when they went into town together and witnessed the difficulty she was having. She reminded herself what the two had also said: it was not her fault; she should not be ashamed or apologize for it; and that she would make friends all the same.

But she was screwing that up too. She had probably scared off Mike. When the principle was walking her to homeroom, Jane quickly lost herself in the hope that Mike, Lucas, or Dustin would be in her class—but she did not actually think all of them would be there. And when she saw Mike, and learned that he was going to be taking care of her at school, it was too good to be true. He did not look quite like Mike; but it was close, and the teacher had called him “Mr. Wheeler”. So she looked and looked and looked at every feature. He was taller, and his hair was longer—but that was the same as her. His face though. . .those bullies had called him “Frog-face”, but his round features had sharpened and his face did not look as squished together anymore.

'_His eyes are still soft though, and his lips_.' She could not keep herself from staring, trying to catch his gaze. But the boy had resolutely avoided looking at her, she was sure of it by the time they were at the lockers. And it was her fault somehow, for being too forward or too weird or something. . .something was wrong with her.

On that somber thought, Max and Jane arrived at the cafeteria. Max could see the boys already seated at their usual table, and she pointed it out to Jane. “If you need to buy lunch, come with me. But if you got one from home, just head on over. Looks like Mike saved you a seat.” Max had meant to tease Jane a bit; but the new girl had perked up, as she saw that the seat next to Mike was vacant. Without another word, Jane walked off toward the table.

'_So there is something there. . .Now that's a mystery_,' Max rolled her eyes.

“Hi, Mike,” Jane said, as she took the seat with lightning speed. The boys stopped their conversation to watch the new girl take her lunch out of her bag, then look at Mike expectantly.

“Hi,” Mike squeaked out, his voice cracking.

Jane smiled even wider for a brief moment, then turned to the others. “Hi, Will. Hi, Lucas. Hi, Dustin.”

“Hi, Jane.”

“Hey, how was P.E.?”

“How's your first day going?”

Jane looked at them all with wide eyes, and they all wilted for a moment as a hush fell over the table. Finally, she spoke, “P.E. was tough. We ran. School is different, but. . .I'm happy.”

There was another pause, then Max came up to sit next to Lucas. “What's with this mood?” Max asked, as she picked at her fries. All the boys looked away from Jane, as seemingly unperturbed, she unpacked her lunch and bit into a carrot. “Oh,” Max seemed to understand. “Yeah, kids have been badgering Jane all morning, including this one,” she shoved her elbow into Lucas, who pushed her back. “So one at a time, ok boys?”

Looks of understanding passed between them all, and Will took the initiative. “Well, you can always sit with us, Jane, until you make friends with—”

“Are you crazy?” Dustin cut in. “We should make her a member of the party asap,” he proposed, and in a whisper that everyone at the table could hear: “Before she figures out we're l-o-s-e-r-s.”

“Too late on that count,” Max said nonchalantly, taking in a few more fries. “She's already ran into some bitches from homeroom and your old buddies, Troy and James.”

Dustin face-palmed dramatically, and Will and Mike looked down at their food abashed. “Screw those guys,” Lucas said a bit too loudly. “But ah—yeah,” he looked at Jane. “Hang out with whoever,” he finished, picking at his food moodily.

“I don't,” Jane began, biting her lip as she tried to find the right words: “I want to be friends. . .is that ok?” Her wide eyes looked at each of them in turn, landing on Mike as he looked up from his lap.

After a moment, during which the entire table's eyes found him, Mike spoke. “Why?” he asked with genuine confusion.

“Man,” Lucas groaned, shaking his head with disapproval.

“Shut up!” Max threw some fries at his face.

“Ignore him,” Will shoved Mike's head down, as he stood up in his seat to look over at Jane. “We want to be your friends.”

“Totally,” Dustin nodded. “Mike is an idiot.”

“Knock it off,” Mike pushed Will off and dusted the fries off of him.

“You knock it off,” Lucas threw back at him. “C'mon, what's the deal?”

“He's just a nerd who doesn't know how to talk to girls,” Max said sagely. “Remember how long it took him to get use to me? Will's right, Jane. Ignore him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike grabbed his bag, and stood up from the table. “That's me all over. Will, you can get her to Algebra.” And with that, Mike was gone. Jane almost jumped up to follow, but remembered how she had seemingly scared him off before. Besides, the others were talking to her again.

Dustin made a comment to Lucas that she did not catch. Then she heard, “Follow me after lunch, Jane,” and Will was at her side now.

“So what's the chief like at home?” Lucas asked, and Max rolled her eyes, giving up for the moment.

Another hush fell over the table, and Jane thought. “He's quiet, like me. . .and there are rules, so strict. . .but he's kind and thoughtful.”

After another pause, Dustin broke the silence. “So, like a big, teddy bear?” Jane stared and suddenly began to giggle. “She can laugh!” Dustin proclaimed, and the whole table smiled and laughed under their breathe.

“Were you home-schooled?” Will asked next.

Jane nodded. “This is the first time,” she explained.

“Oh, wow,” Lucas's eyes went wide. “That explains a bit.”

“Jeez, you're dense,” Max scolded him. Lucas gave her an incredulous look.

“Anyway,” Dustin redirected, “you lived in Hawkins before, right? You said, 'I'm back', in homeroom.”

Jane looked at him blankly, deciding if it was too soon to admit the whole truth—they were not 'close' friends, not yet. “A long time ago. . .”

“Oh,” Dustin deflated a bit. “Cuz it seems like you knew Mike.” The table went silent again: Dustin had said what they were all thinking in the back of their minds. “What?” he looked around with his hands up in confusion. “I'm the only one who thinks so? Jane?”

“I don't,” she answered a little too quickly. '_Friends don't lie_,' a voice in the back of her head said. “I mean. . .I just,” she was blushing now—she could feel the heat on her cheeks. “I'd like to,” she finished lamely. It was not quite a lie, she told herself. She did not really know him, but she desperately wanted to.

The boys did not press any further, and the rest of lunch consisted mostly of them sharing about themselves. Lucas said she should come to the arcade after school, while Will and Dustin suggested checking out the AV club, hinting rather heavily that Mike would likely be there. Max was distracted; it was obvious that there was way too much attention focused on their table in the cafeteria. She saw several groups of girls sneak peaks at the new girl as they took their seats, and more than a few freshman and sophomore boys were pointing Jane out to their friends with shit-eating grins. But the bell sounded without incident, and Jane followed Will out to her next class.

In Algebra, Jane was once again brought to the front of the class to introduce herself. She did better this time, and without much hassle from the teacher she resumed her seat behind Mike. She thought that out too—this way she could look at him without freaking him out. For the rest of the class, she studied the curls in his hair, thinking that it suited him more than the combed out look he had when he was younger. And she could just peak the back of his neck; despite the cold, she could see some sweat dripping down toward his back. She remembered how he had sweat in the cold gym the last time she had seen him, when he thought with single-minded purpose, trying to formulate a plan to keep her safe and to find Will. And how he had sweat when he talked about the Snowball, right before he kissed her.

'_He would look at me if I just told him_,' Jane thought spitefully. '_He would like me like he use to, and hold me, and. . ._' Jane shook the thoughts away. It certainly was painful to think about the past, and why would his feelings be the same? It was only a week that they had known each other, and after all, '_He doesn't recognize me. Even after nearly three years, I can still see him, but he can't_. _None of them can_.' She could feel the sadness growing inside her, but she never cried easily. By the end of the class, she swung back into optimism, remembering that they shared English together as well, away from the other boys and Max.

The bell rang, and Will said goodbye. Mike moved slow, gathering up his things, but Jane stood by his side resolutely. He seemed to be deep in thought, but once they were the only one's left in the room, he immediately snapped up and looked at her.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm probably the biggest weirdo at Hawkins High,” he went on, scratching the back of his head and looking away again. “And a loser, and I don't know how to act with people a lot of the time.” He forced himself to look up at her again, “But that's not an excuse for being a jerk. . .to you, I mean. We can be friends, if you want.” The last sentence betrayed his persistent confusion, and Jane could sense that he was still asking, “_Why?”_

“Not a jerk,” she responded, pulling out her class schedule.

She showed him, trying to explain by pointing to the notes he had written during homeroom. Each class had a name by it: _Biology – Dustin; History – Lucas & Max; P.E. – Max; Algebra – Mike & Will; English Lit. – Mike; Home Econ_. And under in the blank space of the paper, he had written: _Mr. Gayle (Bio): never talk in his class, especially if he's talking; Mr. Lewis (SS): doesn't care about participation, the tests are 100% of your grade; Ms. Lai (Math): very weird, notices everything, but explains all the homework and will always work with you; Ms. Mitchell (Eng): will probably make you read aloud, and is harsh on the grammar and rules in writing assignments_.

Jane had watched Mike, as he read his own notes until realization dawned on him. “Do friends need a reason. . .to be friends?” Jane asked, smiling weakly.

Mike gulped, realizing he had been completely defeated. “No,” he answered, and in the tradition in his party he held out his hand in reconciliation. “Friends?”

Jane blushed and took his hand. “Friends.” They stood looking at each other for a long moment, as their hands were gently clasped together.

The bell rang, and their hands quickly fell, as Mike rushed them out to their next period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Please continue to air your thoughts, comments, and questions :)  
Weekly Updates! And if you noticed, I've added a chapter because I realized that I have the Prologue plus Nine chapters, so you know ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Homecoming

“So how was the first day, kiddo?” Hopper finally asked, after the two were seated at dinner.

Jane chewed a little too obviously, contemplating how much to reveal. “Good. . .I need help: Algebra, maybe English.” Truthfully, Jane felt a bit overwhelmed in every class, but those were the two with Mike. “Physical Education was fun. . .Home Economics is just cooking.”

“Right, right,” Hopper nodded along. “Well, we'll see how you're doing in class at the end of the semester. Maybe you'll have some friends who can help you study by then, hmm? Or we could look for a tutor?” he suggested.

“I made friends,” Jane said, looking down at her food and picking out the corn from the peas in her TV dinner.

“Eat it all,” Hopper said in a half-warning, half-playful tone. Jane took a big bite of all the side vegetables with a grimace. “So who are these friends?” Hopper asked, already half guessing the answer.

He had shown up ten minutes before classes let out, and saw Jane walk out with the rest of the student body, seemingly alone. But before she spotted him in the lot, two boys had rushed up behind her, along with a red-haired girl. They exchanged a few words, when two more boys walked up to join their conversation. And it clicked in Hopper's head: that was Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, and their two friends from the incident. He recognized the girl too: she had been picked up for ditching class when her family had first moved to town, and Hopper himself had been called to their house two or three times since on domestic disturbance—nothing ever came of it though. They all dispersed after a few minutes, and once Jane was alone, Hopper honked the horn and waved her over.

“Max Mayfield,” Jane recounted. “And. . .Will Byers, and the other boys from. . .” Jane's voice trailed off. Hopper said nothing, but noted that Jane was uncharacteristically avoiding his eye. “I did not,” Jane seemed to argue, putting down her utensils and pushing her hair behind her ear, “tell them. And they,” she raised her voice, feeling flustered, “talked to me, first. . .but they do not know.” She searched for the right words again, “They do not see me.”

“Uh-huh,” Hopper acknowledged. “And Mike Wheeler?”

Jane blushed guiltily. “We are friends now. Not close,” Jane admitted. “I won't tell.”

Hopper sighed, “That's not one of our rules.” He tried to explain, “I mean I think that it's smart, but if you are really trying to reconnect with these boys, then there's no telling how they will react when they find out. It's your decision, Jane,” he finished. “I'm here to keep you safe, not to control your life. You understand?”

Jane nodded. She took a deep breathe, and tried to think out all her words before speaking. She cleaned up her plastic plate, and took Hopper's when he was done. Before he could get up, Hopper felt Jane's arm loosely close around his shoulders. “I want them to be friends with me. . .now me,” she said softly.

“They will,” Hopper patted her hands, and stood up to face her. “Soon.”

The rest of Jane's night passed without further conversation. She went to her room, away from the TV, so she could focus on her schoolwork. There was nothing specific due tomorrow, except for the end-section questions in her Algebra book, but Mike had wrote down some of the things she could expect in the next week: pop-quizzes, laboratory guidelines from Dustin that she missed out on, and a few other odds and ends.

She made a good showing of getting through the reading for English, and reviewing the lessons for History and Biology: for the latter two, she figured quickly that the trick was to take notes during class, because the textbooks seemed like impenetrable blocks of esoteric knowledge. But after a couple of hours, she found herself looking at Mike's notes over and over; and feeling a sudden chill, she walked over to the closet and got out Mike's old flannel to drape over her lap.

She touched the fabric of the sleeve to her cheek absentmindedly, and looked intently at the pages. His handwriting was not what she had expected. Hers was awful—big, oddly sized, and spaced unevenly—and Hopper's was squished together, like some hybrid of cursive and print; but Mike's seemed pristine. It certainly was not like the print in her textbooks: the letters had a slightly backwards slant, but the words on the back, blank pages of syllabus were as straight as a ruler; his capital letters were exaggerated, and the tails of his _q_'s, _p_'s, _g_'s, and_ j_'s had no flourish; and he never dotted his _i_'s.

“Lights out,” Hopper called from the other room.

Jane snapped out of it, and rushed to put away the loose papers and her textbooks. “Five minutes,” she called back. “To ready for tomorrow.” She packed her backpack, and picked out clothes: the same jeans, a sports bra which Ms. Byers had suggested might make P.E. easier, and another sweatshirt with a black and white pattern that reminded her of a static-filled TV channel.

As she got into bed, Hopper knocked and entered. “Goodnight, Jane,” and he reached to turn off the light.

“Goodnight, Jim.” she answered, turning over on her side. But she found it hard to fall asleep in earnest: too preoccupied with imagining how tomorrow might go, and the next day, and the next . . .

* * *

Mike spent the majority of his night puzzling over the feeling he got around the new girl, Jane Hopper. She was odd, for sure—especially if she wanted to be friends with him and the party. Even Max had not approached them: she was drafted by Dustin and Lucas. But it was more than that. Everything about her made his mind start racing: her eyes, her voice, the way she spoke, the way she held his hand. . .for that moment after Algebra, when their handshake had given way to something more intimate. It was all too familiar.

_'I like her_,' said a voice in his head. _'She's hot_.'

_'It's not that_,' Mike told himself. _'It's. . .something else_.'

Now the voice morphed and sounded like a younger Lucas, _'You're blind: blind because you like that a girl's not grossed out by you_.' He had been blind that time and convinced himself that El was really trying to help them find Will.

'_She hid the truth to protect us._' The thought was almost too big to comprehend. So Mike spent the next hour in a sort of daze, drawing points and counterpoints in his mind.

'_She looks like El_.'

'_She _sort of_ looks like El: taller, broader, her eyes are a lighter brown, her body. . ._'

Mike's mind wandered over his remembrance of Jane Hopper: how she moved, her neck, the curves that showed through her jeans and sweatshirt. He shook himself out of it to argue. '_Who knows what kind of life she lived with that bastard. . .or what kind of life she's been living._'

'_El is not Jane Hopper. She would tell us. She must have missed us, the same way I've missed her_.'

'We _missed her_,' he corrected himself. _'And none of the others said anything; Dustin, at the least, would have mentioned the resemblance if it was there_.'

'_It was only a week, three years ago_,' the voice shot back. '_And they don't think of her. . .not like I do._'

Suddenly, the voice was silent, as a new thought took over the discourse. '_It doesn't matter, either way. It was awful: what had happened to her and to Will. There was a dozen reasons for her to bury the past, to never come back to Hawkins, to forget a name, to want a new life—but why come back?_'

That is what Mike could not figure out, and that is where his thoughts hit a wall; and the conversation started over again. '_But I do like her because she reminds me of El._' It was almost a sad thought, and he wondered if that is how it would always be. Nancy had different tastes in boys—the only thing Steve Harrington and Johnathon Byers had in common was their height and hair color—but he had never had a crush on another girl.

He had skipped the snowball in seventh grade, and when he went in eighth grade, it was with the party. Nancy had danced with Dustin, which was sweet of her; Lucas and Max had danced together, though they still were really not a couple at that point; and Jennifer Hayes had asked Will to dance for a few songs. Mike had stayed on the bleachers the whole night: he did not approach any of the girls, and none talked to him. That is how all of Junior High had gone: Lucas and Max grew closer, Dustin would talk to girls and build his confidence, but him and Will would watch it all from the side—amused but ultimately uninterested.

No one was like El. Who could be? '_She was brave, and strong, and kind, and trusted me . . . and liked me._' Mike laid face down on his bed and groaned. “I'm so fucking stupid,” he yelled at himself, muffling the sound by shoving the pillow against his face. '_Forget it_,' he decided. '_Just treat her like a person: talk to her, hang out, hit on her, whatever! You're supposed to be having fun: eyes toward the future_.'

He glanced at the foot of his bed and saw nothing. He sighed and groaned again, shot onto his feet, and went to finish some homework till he felt tired enough to sleep.

* * *

During the next two school weeks, Jane focused on recapping her lost month of freshman year and keeping up with the coming month's lessons—at least, while she was at the police station waiting for Hopper to get off of work, or at home after dinner. While at school, she was too preoccupied with the preparations that seemed to decorate the hallways, gymnasium, and doorways of the classrooms.

“What's Homecoming?” she finally asked on Friday, when there was an uncharacteristically long lull in the party's lunch conversation.

“Oh, right,” Dustin jumped right in. “Well it's. . .it happens because schools have sports and rivalries, you see?”

“Rivalries?” Jane thought on the word. “It said dance though,” she corrected. It was the only reason she had brought it up to the whole group in the first place, and even while the others talked, she kept one eye on Mike's reactions.

“It's mostly a dance,” Max nodded. “The whole school gets worked up for a football game against Roane High on Friday, then they turn up to celebrate or whatever on Saturday.”

“It's half a pep-rally, anyway,” Lucas chimed in. “Not important.” Max shot him a look, but only Jane seemed to notice her displeasure.

“It's a valuable experience!” Dustin protested. “Just cause it's popular doesn't mean it sucks. That's the same attitude those stuck-up jocks have toward the stuff we like,” he continued sagely. “Anyway, Jane,” he steered the conversation back on track. “It's a school dance, and outside of emergency assemblies, it's the only place where you could meet almost everyone in our grade—and school—in one place. It could help, uh. . .make-up for first impressions.”

Jane just looked at him confused, but Mike jumped in. “Whatever! What does a meathead like Kevin, or a stuck-up princess like Michelle, know anyway?” Though the party did not know about Jane's run-ins with the most popular freshman and sophomores in the school on her first day—calling Michelle and her wanna-be cheerleader friends “mouth-breathers”, and royally pissing off Kevin—they soon found out. Only a dozen people had approached Jane directly in the last four days, but those few had wasted no time spreading ugly rumors about her: that she was brain damaged and her speech showed it; that she was gay for the red-haired girl from California; or at the very least, that she was a freak who could only fit in with the other freaks, like that queer Will Byers, or Frogface and Toothless (nicknames that had popped up again in the last two days thanks to Troy and James, or so Mike assumed).

“What do they know?” Jane asked, confused.

“Nothing,” Mike said quickly, and the others echoed him.

“But anyway,” Will interrupted. “Did you wanna go, Jane?”

She thought, and the others chewed their food, waiting. “A dance. . .you go with someone you like.” She paused there, and looked at everyone except Mike, who was sitting at her side. “Are you going with someone?” She looked back at Will.

“Uh,” Will stalled, looking from Dustin to Mike.

“Whatever happened with Jennifer Hayes?” Dustin asked.

“What?” Will sounded caught off guard. “Not—nothing, really.”

“Right,” Lucas said with disbelief. “You were hanging out with her this summer, right? And weren't you two talking after Health yesterday?”

“She came over once,” Will protested. “She's cool, but it's not anything.”

“But it could be! You could ask her to Homecoming,” Dustin said in an excited, yet matter-of-fact tone.

“Knock it off, Dustin,” Mike interrupted. Dustin looked confused and offended, but Mike went on, “They can just be friends, and it's not our business anyway. If Will wants our advice, or needs our help, he'll ask for it. Those are the party rules, right?”

Dustin sighed, “Party rules. Geez, I was just saying. Anyway,” he recovered, “So are we going? If we're not worried about asking people out, we can just go together.”

“Why are we going, again?” Lucas asked with persistence.

“For Jane,” Max said with exasperation. “Or are you actually suggesting that we split the party?” The last phrase caused a deadly hush to fall over the table. Max had them dead to rights.

Mike broke the silence. “Did you wanna go, Jane?” They locked eyes, and Jane's arm twitched at her side—wanting instinctively to hold Mike's hand. “We can go together.” Jane could feel herself blushing; but she was facing away from the rest of table, so she kept looking at Mike—trying to speak. “We can all go together, right?”

Jane heard the table give their assent behind her, and she realized that it was different from last time, when Mike had confessed that he liked her as more than a friend. He was kind, and wanted to include her: that was all. '_That's enough_,' she smiled at him, while the thought popped into her head. '_As a friend is more than enough, for now_.'

“Yes, please,” she nodded at Mike and gave the rest of the table a wide smile.

“Hey Max,” Lucas said, after a moment. “Come look over my homework before class.”

“Sure,” Max said meekly; and the two left the table without meeting anyone's eyes.

“One-hundred percent, he's gonna ask her to the dance,” Dustin teased.

Mike and Will smiled. When Dustin started the teasing, the two knew he was not feeling too sensitive about missing out on his chance with Max. “She's gonna give him such hell for it,” Mike offered.

“If only we could see it,” Will continued the gag in a faux-airy tone. The three boys laughed, but Jane looked serious.

“They,” she asked Mike, “are together?” This felt more familiar to Jane, who had seen a dozen romantic sub-plots in her daytime soap-operas.

“Most of the time,” Mike shrugged. “We don't really talk about it to be honest.”

“I'm pretty sure I've caught them kissing since the Snowball last year,” Will said. “What do you know, Dustin?”

“Not any more than you,” Dustin shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I've moved on.”

“They kissed at a dance,” Jane repeated the information to make sure she understood.

“Yeah,” Mike answered. Now all three boys were looking uncomfortable. “When you ask someone to dance, I guess that's kinda what you're hoping for. And ah. . .” Mike was blushing now, under Jane's intense stare. “I mean, they didn't go together—we went as a group to the Snowball. But Lucas asked her to dance, so yeah,” he finished awkwardly.

“Time to go,” Dustin said suddenly, and though the bell had not quite rung, he gathered up his food and left the table.

“Bathroom,” Will gathered up his stuff as quickly as Dustin. “See you two in a class,” and he was gone.

“It is next Saturday?” Jane asked, slowly packing up her bag as well.

“Yeah,” Mike answered, doing the same.

“It will be fun.” It was a half a question, and she tugged on Mike's arm again, before he could walk away from the table.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, looking down at her hand placed in the crook of his elbow, as she withdrew it apologetically. “You don't have to dance, by the way. There are plenty of girls who just group together and talk the whole time during these things.” Mike was speaking just to get past the awkward moment. “But I guess, a lot of people talk while they're dancing too so, you know. . .if there's a guy you want to get to know better, you should ask 'em to dance. They'd be so lucky.”

The two were walking now, Jane following Mike, and neither could see the other blushing painfully. “Ok,” she responded. “Thank you, Mike.”

* * *

Hopper accepted the proposal easily enough: she would not go to next Friday night's game, but he would drive her to the Homecoming Dance and wait in the parking lot just in case. Since Will had been abducted, Joyce Byers drove her son everywhere, and with or without his knowledge, she was never far off during his nights out: she would keep Hopper company in the parking lot, and Bob might be there as well.

The matter had been settled over the weekend after Jane's first week of school, when Joyce took her shopping for a proper dress. “We can do your make-up tonight,” she promised, “so on the night of, you can manage yourself. Nothing complicated, don't worry. Just some foundation and something around your eyes to match your dress—oh! I do like that blue on you, and I bet we can find a sash that matches the purple trim.”

They settled on that blue dress patterned with purple spots and trim with shoes and a belt to match that pulled the fairly-loose fitting dress together at the middle. Jane was not exactly pleased with it, but she thought that the eye-shadow had a pleasant effect.

“Pretty?” Jane asked Hopper, as she walked out of her room that Sunday night, after Joyce had overseen her second try at doing her own make-up. She put on the dress too, hoping to gain her guardian's overall approval.

“Yeah, kid,” Hopper smile wide.

She looked back at Joyce, and resisted the urge wipe her brow. “Did I. . .do ok?”

“Perfect, let me take a Polaroid.” Joyce rushed to her bag by the door and called back, “Just so you have it as a reference.”

Once Joyce had left and Jane had dressed for bed, Hopper knocked on her door. “Come in,” she called.

“Hey, kiddo. I got something for you.” Jane sat up straight in her bed, ready. “This,” Hopper reached over and put a small plastic something in her hand, “is a clip to keep your hair back. You don't have to wear it—” But Jane was already putting the clip in her hair and scooting toward Hopper to hug him. “I just want you to have it,” he finished, hugging her back. As Jane withdrew, he took one of her arms into his hand and slipped a blue band around her wrist. “Same with this.”

“Thank you,” Jane said. “Thank you so much, Jim. . .for everything.”

“Yeah,” he wiped his nose and stretched as he stood up. “Have fun at this thing, ok?”

Jane nodded.

The next week was a blur for the most part. The party was excited that they would be doing something together with Jane for the first time, and not at all perturbed that she could not make it to the game.

“Dustin and Mike are going with Steve Harrington,” Lucas shrugged. It was lunch, and everyone but Mike had found their place at the usual table.

“He's the assistant coach,” Max explained.

“And he used to date Mike's sister,” Will went on. “Also, he and Dustin have a thing.”

“He's a good guy,” Dustin said for the umpteenth time. “And who got more girls than King Steve?”

“King Dustin?” Lucas offered, teasingly.

As they went on trading jokes and insults, Jane felt a sudden ease settle over her. She never spoke much when they were all together, but neither did Will. And they paused to listen to her, even though they spoke over each other constantly. “He's been a good friend,” she said to Dustin.

Everyone looked over and saw the sincere joy in Jane's smile. “That's all I'm saying,” Dustin motioned in an incredulous way. “And Mike gets it.”

“Totally,” Mike said, as he grabbed his seat in between Will and Jane. “What are we talking about?” Everyone laughed. “Hi, Jane. All good today?”

'_We're becoming closer_,' she mused. This was the first time he had greeted her, not the other way around.

“Hi, Mike,” she beamed at him. The two were oblivious to the eye-rolls from the rest of the table. “Yes, good.”

“Good,” Mike nodded absentmindedly, starting on his food.

“How are you?” Jane asked, turning back to eat her lunch, as the table all moved to look casual.

“Tired,” he said. And as if on cue, Mike yawned wide. “I've been up planning our next campaign.” He smiled at the rest of the table.

“What?” Max protested, but she was smiling as well. “We just finished the summer campaign a month ago!”

“More than a month,” Will smiled. “And it's never too soon. I bet we can find time to at least start it over thanksgiving break.”

“I'm down,” Lucas and Dustin said in chorus.

“So Jane,” Mike began, looking resolutely at everyone but her. “We were thinking—I was planning,” Mike corrected himself, when the others started to plead ignorance. “To—if you wanted to play this campaign with us—you could come over and make a character sometime, and uh, I'd help.”

A now familiar silence fell over the table as they waited for Jane to answer. “Yes,” she said simply, finishing off her sandwich and taking a long drink from her water bottle. “What is campaign?”

“Oh,” Mike kicked himself. “Right, it's uh—”

But Dustin and the others were off on explanations before he got out anymore. Jane did not understand most of it, but could tell it had to do with the game that Mike had set up in his basement years ago; and she smiled to herself knowing that so much of the boy she knew was still alive in Mike now.

“It's frustrating as hell, but fun for the most part,” Max concluded. And with that, the bell sounded and lunch ended. “Lucas and I are headed straight to the arcade after school, so I'll see you tomorrow, Jane.”

“Bye,” Lucas waved, and the rest waved back.

The remains of the day passed slowly for Jane, and the night even slower. She practiced her make-up one more time, and felt happy with the results—besides it was a chore to wipe off—and she hung up her dress on the other side of her door, admiring the pattern despite her slight distaste for how she wore it. '_It makes me look puffy. . .it makes me look younger than I am_.'

'_Might not be bad_,' she argued with herself. '_They might see you if you look younger. . .if you look like you did.'_

'_I don't want to be her_,' she said resolutely. '_They like now me. . .that's what I want_,' she told herself again, hoping this was the time she would fully believe it.

Saturday passed slowly as well. Hopper had gone in early to work so he could be back in time to drive Jane to the dance by 5:00pm. Jane was too excited to work on homework, and she would just fidget trying to watch her soap-operas. She ended up cleaning her room, the kitchen, and the living room; looking over more of the notes Mike had given her over the past week; and sitting by the radio as five o'clock drew closer and closer.

As the clock showed five-zero-zero, Jane took up the radio and sent out a message in Morse code: _E-T-A_. Five minutes. . .ten minutes. . .fifteen minutes, and still no answer. Jane did not know whether to start getting ready or not. Hopper had promised to help her with her hair and dress, and the dance was going to start soon.

Another fifteen minutes crawled on, while Jane struggled not to bite her fingernails or pull on her hair, as thoughts of disappointment and panic raced through her mind. The clock read five-two-eight, and a message came through on the radio. “_Hey_,” Hopper's voice came through with some static, “_Sorry, kid. I'll meet you at the school: I'm stuck out here on the farms, but Joyce Byers is coming for you. She'll be there before six. Sorry again. Over_.”

“Ok!” Jane nearly shouted into her end of the microphone. “To Hopper, I copy, and. . .I forgive you. Over and Out.” She nearly tripped, as she ran to her room and began getting dressed.

Sure enough, Joyce was there before six. She apologized for Hopper and helped Jane finish getting ready. As they left the house, Jane could see an older man in the driver seat and Will in the back.

She greeted Will as she got in the backseat, and Joyce introduced her to Bob who smiled kindly and said “and we're off,” as they started toward the school.

“I like your hair, Jane,” Will said after a while. He looked at her and added, “And mom helped you pick the dress, right?”

“Thank you,” Jane responded. “Yeah. . .your mom is nice.”

“She's the best,” Will nodded.

“Will says you're becoming good friends, Jane?” Joyce interrupted. “With Mike, Lucas, and Max too.”

“Yes,” Jane answered. “They have helped. . .me, a lot.”

“That's good,” Joyce said. Will looked embarrassed and mouthed an apology to Jane. “And you're always welcome over our house. You know, Will said that you head to the station after school, but if you wanted to spend time with the boys or Max, I can always take you home when I pick up Will—or Hopper can—”

“Mom,” Will said with exasperation. “Jane knows. I told you I would tell her days ago, and I did.”

“Ok, ok,” Joyce conceded, “I just wanted to make sure. Just, you know for sure now, Jane.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jane agreed. “Thank you.”

“And don't let Hopper bully you into staying with him all the time,” Joyce added. “I know about being an overprotective parent, and he's got all the signs.”

The two adults shared a laugh, then Joyce continued by asking if she needed anything else, offering once again to go shopping with her whenever she was free. On the ride there, Will talked to her about the latest story in their English textbook, “The Gift of the Magi”. Jane was surprised to find that he was much more talkative one on one than he was at during school lunches, and she was happy that he was comfortable talking with her.

They got to the Homecoming dance around 6:30PM, and Jane waved goodbye to Joyce and Bob, knowing they would be close by. Despite Will's embarrassment, it was comforting to Jane that she had people in her life that cared about her and her friends.

“C'mon,” Will waved her over to the gymnasium door. “I bet we can find Mike easy enough.”

“And everyone?” Jane asked, feeling more and more panic at the thought of her first dance—and at the mention of Mike over their other friends. She had thought about both a lot when she left Hawkins three years ago. She remembered the one, special promise Mike could not keep: to take her to the Snowball. Jane imagined over and over what that might be like. . .and now she was about to have an answer.

“Sure,” Will said, giving her an all-too-knowing grin. “He hasn't said anything, but I'm sure Mike will ask you to dance—just so you know.”

“Ok,” Jane answered a little too loudly, not knowing what else to say. Will saw their friends at the far table when they entered, but with no Mike.

“Hey,” Will called, and the three waved them both over. “Where is our fearless leader?”

“Oh, shit,” Dustin put his hand to his mouth. “I didn't radio you last night. Well, he should be here, as long as he was able to stop his mom from freaking out. You should have seen her after the game last night.”

“Dude,” Will put his hands on Dustin to stop him going on and on. “Did something happened?”

“Right, well uh—” he said, looking from Jane's concerned face back to Will.

“Mike got in a fight with Kevin at the Homecoming game,” Max supplied, while Dustin stumbled over his words.

“What?” Will exclaimed. “Why? They don't even know each other.”

“It's because,” Max began, but Lucas cut in.

“Hey, whoa,” Lucas put out his hands as if to separate those who knew and those who did not. “Maybe we should wait for Mike: he might not want rumors spreading around.”

“What rumors?” Will was trying to keep up.

“It's not rumors,” Max tried to brush Lucas's objection off. “It's what happened! Besides, it's just us. Mike told Dustin, and Dustin was bound to tell us, so Mike obviously doesn't care if we all know too.”

“Doesn't care that the party knows,” Lucas clarified, with a apologetic but stern look toward Jane.

“That's stupid,” Max tried to dismiss him again. “It's Jane's business too, obvious—“

“It's not stupid just cuz you don't get it,” Lucas was speaking loud enough that a few kids from the other tables were looking over now.

“Hey, hey,” Will and Dustin both moved in closer, and intentionally lowered and steadied their voices. “It's nothing to argue over.”

“Is he okay?” Jane moved closer too, confused but determined to understand. “Is Mike okay?”

“Yeah,” Dustin assured her. “He's got a bruise and a small cut, right here,” Dustin pointed to the side of his left eye, then above the brow on the same side.

“And where were you when this went down?” Will asked.

“I ran to get Steve,” Dustin said. “He was the first one I saw,” he explained, seeing Max roll her eyes. “And he broke it up quick, but not before Kevin got a hit in. But hey, Mike didn't do too bad. When I came back, Kevin was on the ground and Mike was standing—so, yeah.”

“Hey, c'mon,” Lucas repeated. “Let's just wait for Mike.”

“Whatever,” Max gave up. “I'm getting more punch.” Jane followed the red-haired girl with her eyes and scanned the gym, absentmindedly. This was not right at all: whatever she thought a school dance was like, this was not how it should have started.

By the time Max came back with punch, bringing one for herself and one for Jane, the party had all sat down and begun talking about what Will and Jane had missed. Not much, it turned out: Principle Murphy had given announcements and guidelines for the dance; Coach Jackson had directed the students to vote for Homecoming King and Queen before 7:00PM, and that the winners would be announced at 7:30; and now some of the Junior and Seniors were dancing to the fast-paced songs that kicked off the night, while younger students populated the benches and took pictures to commemorate the occasion.

“We'll do that too,” Max told Jane. “Why don't we go now? Just us two, while we're waiting for Mike.”

Jane nodded, trying to put her night back on track. She thought about Max's outfit. She was not wearing a dress, but her hair was combed neatly and pulled back with a hair clip. For a moment Jane felt embarrassed for dressing up so much, but looking around she could see that her outfit was more par for the course than Max's red pants and patterned black sweatshirt.

They were in line now, and as they waited, Max turned to Jane and gave her a serious look. “Do you want to know why Kevin and Mike were fighting?”

Jane thought, as she watched the smiling faces of another group of friends who were having their picture taken. “No,” she decided. “Was it. . .the 'Kevin' who spoke to me?” Max said it was, and mentioned that the other two boys, Troy and James, were with Kevin when he and Mike fought. Jane took in the information and asked, “Mike will take a picture still?” Max looked dumbstruck. “He's hurt here,” Jane pointed to her face, “but I hope he will. . .still.”

“Yeah,” Max answered after another moment. “I'm sure if _you _ask, he will.”

Jane could hear the coo in her voice on the word “you”, and thought she knew what Max was suggesting. “Ok,” she said again, wringing her hands together and looking away.

As the girls stepped out after their pictures were taken, Jane glanced around the gymnasium agai, and was pretty sure that she recognized the 'Kevin' from before. And without a word, she left Max's side and marched toward him. “Hold up!” Max called after her, when she noticed where Jane was heading. But Jane did not heed her, so Max just followed her through the crowd of people that separated them from the bleachers, where Kevin sat with some other members of the baseball team.

Kevin had his back to the approaching girls, so he was completely caught off guard when a pair of hands grabbed his soldiers from behind and threw him onto his back on the gym floor. His head rung as it hit the floor at a painful angle, and he gathered his wits as the other boys gasped, exclaimed, and winced in pain at the sight. Jane was kneeling at his side with one hand pressed against his chest, just under his throat.

“Why fight?” she demanded of him.

“What?” Kevin responded, holding his head and looking at the girl with disgust.

“Don't fight my friends,” she said, and added for clarification, “Mike.”

Kevin swatted her hand away, but Jane remained kneeling next to him. “Oh, I get it. Freaks of a feather, huh?” His eyes shifted to a space behind Jane, “Sent her to fight your battle for you, Wheeler?”

Before Jane could spin around, she felt a hand slip into her own and begin to pull her off the ground and away. “C'mon,” Mike's voice whispered in her ear, and they were halfway across the crowd before Jane could look behind her and see that Kevin had righted himself. Max was at her side as well, asking her and Mike a flurry of questions—finally shouting after them, “And where are you going?”

Jane did not care though. Mike seemed to have a plan, and she felt the familiar sense of calm purpose that had defined their time together three years ago. She knew that if she had faith and followed, then everything would be ok. They were out of the gym now, passing the check-in desk and taking a seat at one of the chairs that lined the hallway by the gym's door. The desk was empty now, and the ballot box that had sat on top was gone as well.

“Guess Mr. Gayle went to deliver and help count the votes,” Mike finally spoke. “Sorry, by the way,” turning to look at Jane and releasing her hand. “I don't think making a scene in front of the whole school would do you any favors—at the least suspension, but anyway. . .”

Jane's hands went instinctively to his face, placing a hand on his right cheek and the other above the large bruise near his left eye, moving slowly toward the bandage that covered a small cut. “Why?” she asked.

“Wha—ouch,” Jane had lightly brushed the bruise.

“What happened?” she repeated.

“Nothing,” Mike pleaded, looking her full in the face. His eyes were searching hers, plunging into the depths, and Jane lost herself for a moment in his stare. “He's an asshole, and I'm a loser. And this just happens sometimes: I tried to tell you when you wanted to be friends that—”

“Mike,” she said in her harshest tone. “We're friends. . .don't lie,” she commanded. “What happened? Why?” She had both her hands on his shoulders now, forcing him to face her.

“He was talking shit,” Mike confessed. “About you.” Jane continued to stare at him with a silent plea to go on. “I don't,” Mike sighed, looking down at his lap. “I don't want to repeat what he said, but it wasn't nice. It was awful, actually.”

Jane's hands moved up the side of Mike's neck, gently forcing him to look back at her. She spoke slowly and deliberately, “I don't care what he said, Mike.” She was so close now that when she spoke Mike could feel her breathe on his lips. “I don't want you hurt. . .for me or anything.”

“Jane,” Mike took her hands off his neck, and held them in his lap.

“Promise,” Jane said. “Promise, Mike.”

“I promise,” he said, as Jane leaned in. The doors to the gym opened noisily, and the two stood up.

“Told you they weren't far,” Dustin exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas said.

“It's died down,” Will added. “I don't think any teachers saw what happened, and Kevin hasn't moved: he won't do anything, at least tonight.”

“Anyway,” Max said, “We gotta take pictures before they announce the winner, so c'mon. We don't have a lot of time.”

The party headed back into the gymnasium, and Jane slipped her hand into Mike's once more. They stayed that way, talking and joking with their friends, as they waited in line for pictures. Mike swore that he saw each of them glance down and see. But no one said anything, and Jane went on smiling and listening seemingly without a care, so he counted his good fortune as they came to the front of the line.

“Alright, you two first,” Dustin pushed Lucas forward, and Will did the same to Max. They protested, looking embarrassed, but got in front of the camera just the same. Mike felt Jane squeeze a bit as the camera flashed and looked over to see her transfixed at the scene.

“You two as well,” Will shoved Mike a bit.

“What?” Mike regained his balance and let go of Jane's hand. “We're not—”

“Are you stupid?” Dustin put one arm around Mike and messed up his hair.

“It's Jane's first dance,” Will said with a wide smile. “And you're the favorite, so,” and he gave him another shove this time into Jane's arms.

She steadied him this time with her hands on his shoulders. He was frozen for a moment, looking at her. “I-eh,” he stuttered. “If you want.”

“Please,” she nodded. The two went up together, Mike fixing his hair and Jane smoothing out her dress. The photographer showed them the pose, unexpectedly moving their arms and waists to be just right, then scurried to the other side of the camera. “On one, two, three,” and the flash went off. “Another: one, two, three. . .Two more, stand how you like.” The couple quickly stood straight and faced the camera, as the flash went off.

The whole thing was pretty silly to Jane, now that is was happening. She shot a shy smile at Mike and saw him looking at her already. Their heads turned toward each other, and smiling, they lost themselves again in the other's eyes.

“. . .two, three,” the flash went off again, and the two snapped out of it.

“All together now,” Dustin rallied, as he, Will, Lucas, and Max crowded in front of the camera.

Before she knew it, they were all standing around the stage and Principle Murphy was calling for quiet over the microphone. She announced the “Homecoming Court” first, which was a boy and girl from each grade. Jane heard Lucas whisper to the others, “Did you vote? I forgot.” They all shrugged, while Max stifled a laugh and covered her mouth. Except for “Jennifer Hayes”, Jane did not recognize any of the names. Each pair was crowned with costume jewelry; but Jane found the overall effect pleasant and a part of her wanted to be up on the stage with them.

She did not recognize the names of the Homecoming King and Queen either, when the Principle presented them to the school. She watched with mild jealousy as each pair from the court walked off the stage and began to dance to a slow song that played from the speakers. Other couples began to join them, and Jane nearly stepped forward herself; but before taking a step, she could feel the others turning around and heading back to their table, so she followed.

The next hour passed quickly with the group staying at their table and talking about everything from AV club to schoolwork to Kevin's possible retribution to family, and on and on. But Jane was watching the dancers, sweating a bit at the realization that she did not learn how to dance. On the one hand, she was glad that none of the others seemed interested in dancing. On the other hand, she felt a desperation to join in. They all looked so happy, and she could not help but picture herself out there with Mike.

Jane came back to the conversation, when a blonde girl wearing a silver circlet and dark red dress approached their table. It was the girl who had been chosen for the court from their grade. “Hi, everyone. Hi, Will,” she greeted.

“Hi, Jennifer,” Will stood up.

The two seemed to say in unison, “Do you want to dance?” They laughed at the jinx, while the rest of the table smiled at each other.

“Oh,” Will exclaimed. “Did you remember. . .” he leaned in to whisper the rest into Jennifer's ear.

“Yeah, she's. . .” Jennifer pointed to another table. “But,” and she whispered back in Will's ear.

“Not a problem,” Will responded and turned back to the group. “Dustin, c'mon. The last dance is coming up, and Ally S. is this way.” Will was now lifting Dustin bodily from his chair and pushing him onward.

“How do I look? How does my breath smell?” Dustin was fussing over his appearance and pulling at his suit jacket.

“Fine, fine,” Jane heard Will saying, as the two boys walked off with Jennifer.

“Last dance?” Jane tore her eyes away from the scene, and back toward Mike, Lucas, and Max—only to see that Lucas and Max were walking toward the dance floor hand in hand.

“It's the final few songs at the end of the night,” Mike explained. “People pair off and slow dance. . .” he trailed off. But Mike need not have said anything. A slow, familiar song began to play, and Jane could see most of the people leave the tables and benches in pairs.

“Mike,” Jane turned to him, still seated.

“Do you wanna dance?” He blurted out.

He stood up, and she did the same. “I want to,” Jane said. “I don't know how.”

Mike held out his hand and gave a small shrug. “Me neither. Do you want to figure it out?” Jane nodded, took his hand, and followed him onto the dance floor.

“I think,” he took her other hand as they faced each other. “Put your hands here, like this.” He placed her hands on his shoulders, and she moved them closer to clasp behind his neck. “Yeah,” he blushed, “like that.”

Mike put his hands on her hips, and Jane could feel him moving her back and forth in rhythm with the music. She could not bring herself to look him in the eyes when they were holding each other like this, so she began to glance around. The song was ending, but another slow song started up immediately: it had a sweet rhythm, but was much simpler than the last.

The words began. _Earth Angel. Earth Angel. Will you be mine? _

She did not see Lucas, Max, Will, or Dustin; and she felt, even surrounded by relative strangers, that without them she was alone with Mike. She looked down now, trying to cement herself in that illusion: to take in how Mike felt against her, how he moved and breathed, and how he looked.

_I'm just a fool. A fool in love with you. Earth Angel. Earth Angel. The one I adore._

He was wearing a white shirt with a pale blue tie, but over that was a brown sports jacket that did not quite match his brown slacks. Last time she had been this close to Mike, they had been the same height, but now her eye-line came to just above his lips. She did not think she could ever get tired of this slow, melodic embrace. . .or of Mike. Being in his arms now felt like home.

“You look beautiful,” she heard him say. She looked up and into his eyes, smiling. Another song was starting now.

_No New Years Day to celebrate. No chocolate covered, candy hearts to give away._

“You too, Mike.” She thought about the many scenes of lovers holding each other close on TV. “You. . .look handsome.” She had caught his eye, and began to drift again. Her nervousness and embarrassment faded away, along with happiness and desire.

_No summer's high. No warm July. No harvest moon to light one tender August night._

“Jane,” Mike spoke. He could feel her grip tighten behind his neck, as she gently pulled him closer.

“Please,” she spoke softly, closing her eyes and lifting her chin. And Mike was there, pressing his lips against hers. The moment was over as soon as it began, and she was staring up at Mike again. He met her gaze, but she did not want to lose herself again. She closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead to his right cheek, holding on to the happiness fluttering in her stomach.

One more song started up, and she felt Mike give a little jerk in her arms, then settle. “Sorry,” he said. “This song makes me think of a friend I had.”

_Every single day. Every word you say. Every game you play. Every night you stay, I'll be watching you._

“Do you miss her?” Jane asked, still holding him close.

“Yeah,” Mike admitted. “But it's ok,” he returned her embrace, closing his hands behind her waist. “I know that she's doing ok now. . .and so am I.” They swayed to the music and broke apart as it ended. The students began to talk and walk off, and the dance came to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly Updates! Thank you for reading and please comment *thumbs up*


	4. When We're Alone

For Mike, Sunday had dragged on and on: he could not concentrate on schoolwork, his face stung for hours, his mother fussed over him, and the world melted away every few minutes as he re-lived those moments dancing with Jane. Despite all that, or perhaps because of it, Monday came without him worrying about how things had changed between them—or how he would act when he saw Jane again.

So now, sitting in homeroom five minutes before school started, Mike was sweating, shaking his leg uncontrollably, and pulling at his hair absentmindedly.

“Dude,” he finally heard Lucas's voice. Mike turned to face him, “Mike, dude. You didn't have the walkie on all weekend. And are you bugging out or what?”

“No,” Mike smoothed his hair, and tried to stop his leg. “My mom, y'know? She was—” Mike stopped as the class door opened, and Jane walked through. He straightened and messed with his things to make sure there was room for Jane's bag next to the empty chair beside him. “Good morning, Jane,” Mike felt himself say a bit too loudly; he could practically feel Lucas, Dustin, and even Will give him an obnoxious roll of their eyes.

“Hi, Mike,” she said in her usual cheerful tone. She took her place, and before anything more could be said, the homeroom teacher called for attention and began to take roll.

Mike remembered their first day of class only three weeks ago. He had been resolutely staring at Jane's schedule—acutely aware that the new girl was stealing glances and outright staring at him for the entire homeroom period. But now the situation was reversed; Mike could not help but look over at Jane every minute. She seemed not to notice, as she went on with her customary note-taking.

She was wearing jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt, and another many-colored, striped shirt on top of that. Her hair was combed back with the ends laying in loose curls; but her lips had a faint sheen like they did on Saturday night, and Mike thought that she must be wearing lip gloss. His eyes rested there a while, and he slipped back into reliving those few moments again. . .till he heard the bell ring.

“Mike,” Jane turned to him, still smiling.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mike said, gathering his bag and books. “I mean, what's up?” Jane hesitated. As usual, the other boys were lagging behind to walk out together with the party, but Max took one look at the scene and hurried them out with a wink at Mike. “So what's up?” Mike repeated, smiling back at her sincerely.

“When we left, Hopper rushed me away,” Jane had thought out yesterday exactly what she wanted to say. “I didn't. . .to say 'thank you', for the dance.”

“I didn't do anything,” Mike cut in. “Really, you don't need to. It was, I mean I should be thanking you,” he finished in a mumble.

“Thank you, Mike,” Jane went on untroubled. “And I'm free again Saturday, for making character. . .for the campaign,” she added, when Mike seemed perplexed.

“Oh,” Mike understood. “Absolutely,” the second bell rang. “We'll talk about it at lunch. We gotta get to class!” And without a second thought, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the classroom.

At lunch, Mike set out a plan for the two of them. He would bike to her house as a last resort, but he figured that either Hopper or Joyce could drop her off at his house. “Oh, but I guess—uh—does everyone wanna come? Will and I usually play Atari, but I'll be busy with character creation, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Dustin said. “We can definitely drop by.”

“Us too,” Max agreed. “But I need to actually start on some of these longer assignments. I haven't even looked at the History project guidelines.”

“We got till winter break,” Lucas shrugged. “But yeah, I'll be there.”

“Good,” Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He honestly did not know what he would do with a whole day alone with Jane. “Will, talk to your mom for us? Just in case.”

“For sure,” Will answered.

Once everything was settled, Max launched into her plan for the History project and grilled the others for ideas. Jane seemed interested as well, but Mike noticed that once and a while her hand would give an almost imperceptible jerk toward him. He placed his hand next to hers, extending his fingers on the lunch table's long bench-seat. Their fingertips touched, but Jane's hand did not flinch backwards as he half-way expected. Instead, her fingers found a comfortable place intertwined in his. He watched her the whole time, but she only smiled benignly and listened to the group's conversation as always. Yet somehow, Mike thought, her smile was brighter.

They stayed like that for the rest of lunch; and a fire, lit by the small secret the two shared, kept Mike on the edge of his seat. He felt himself trying to keep the end of lunch at bay through sheer will; but the bell rang as always, and the group went their separate ways.

“Hey, Jane,” Mike said, as they walked to their lockers with Will.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking, well,” he began, as awkward as ever. “You mentioned waiting at the station for hours after school, for the Chief to get off. But you could stay here, or—”

“Come to my house,” Will chimed in. “My mom already offered, Mike,” he explained. “I think she already talked to Hopper about it too.”

“Oh,” Mike said in a monotone. “I could—uh, ask him about that. I was saying, that I could talk to the Chief after school, Jane. To make sure, or whatever. So, if you could wait for me before heading out to the parking lot?”

“Yes,” Jane answered right away. She had gathered her Algebra book and homework from her locker, then began to walk toward the classroom.

“Wait a sec,” Mike grabbed her hand almost instinctively. “Let me show you where the AV room is: we can meet there.” Jane gave no resistance, but Mike let go after glancing around the hallways and noticing the several students who glanced down at their hands as they passed.

Later, the meeting between Hopper and Mike went as well as Jane had expected. Mike was able to sputter out his invitation to help Jane with her homework after school, till whenever he could pick her up—something that Jane did not expect, causing her to grin in an obvious way that made Hopper grimace.

But the Chief had said that he would rather have an adult involved, so Jane could go home with Joyce or Bob most days, if she wanted. However, he would pick her up Fridays as usual. Though he did not exactly say it, Jane could hear the intention behind his words.

She had been so excited the night of the Homecoming dance that she could not help but tell him every detail: the bad things Kevin had said about her, whatever they were; the photos of her and everyone; and the dance and kiss with Mike. Hopper had given her a completely incredulous look and had protested, reminding her that she had just wanting to make friends. “This is better,” she had answered him without embarrassment. As the words left her mouth, she could still feel the sensation of Mike's lips on hers. And when he suggested that maybe this was all moving a bit too fast, she had panicked for a moment, remembering how she had scared Mike with her over-familiarity when they met on her first day of school.

A rush of panic, anger, and confusion overtook her for the rest of their ride home; and before she could jump out of the car and run to her room, Hopper had grabbed her shoulder and apologized. “Maybe I overstepped some boundaries there, kiddo,” he admitted. “I'm just worried about you, and for the Wheeler kid. You're both young, and I don't want you doing anything you regret. . .so just think things through and take it slow. You're safe now, and home: you got all the time in the world. . .I didn't mean to ruin your night. I really am happy you had a good time.”

She had wiped her eyes and nodded, not knowing what else to say or do. The next morning she had shaken off her fears and doubts, and decided to trust in Mike. Come Monday, she would act the same as always: she was already sweeter to him than the rest of their friends, she knew. And if Mike wanted to take it any farther, then she would follow his lead. If not, well. . .it was still enough to have that one golden night, and to be happy as his friend now.

But it seems like she would regret sharing everything with Hopper. She thought she could see the exact purpose behind his guidelines: if Mike wanted to spend time with her, he could not do it alone. They would never be alone, if he could help it. The thought made Jane sad, for some reason that she could not pin down. She really did not understand why having other people around should matter; after all, she liked all her friends and the Byers family. But it had something to do with that moment at lunch, when Mike had slowly and privately held her hand under the table.

She wanted to hold his hand all the time, and have him hold her waist, and for their lips to touch again, and. . .more. She had imagined scenes that made her blush all of Sunday—despite her promise to not push anything, unless Mike showed an interest for more. And unlike their kiss in that crowded gym, all these scenes seem to happen in private: as if her and Mike were the only people in the world.

So she thought fast, when Mike mentioned having her over on Saturday. “The party will be there,” she cut in before Mike was finished.

“The party?” Hopper questioned.

“Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Max,” Mike listed off. “They're the others who play the game; and yeah, they're coming over to work on a History project. And we all hang out on the weekends anyway. . .at my parent's house. Jane can come whenever too,” he added.

“Right,” Hopper dismissed all but the core of the information. “That's fine, and you all can come over on Saturday's too. I'm off Sundays, and that's family day. Got it?”

“Got it,” Mike gulped. “It's—uh, basically the same in mine and Dustin's family. So, that's all. . .”

Hopper gave him a skeptical eye. “That's all,” he agreed. On the way home, Hopper hashed out the specifics of their new rules. It annoyed Jane a little, but she tried to concentrate on celebrating the small victory. In the end, the guidelines seemed more than reasonable. Jane agreed that on weekdays she would either stay at the school with two or more friends, or be at Will Byer's house; but nowhere else. On weekends, she could go to any of her friend's houses or anywhere in the main town, as long as the entire party stayed together. Finally, she agreed not to start this new after-school plan till next week.

So the week past, and nothing of note happened. . .though Jane now found herself counting the minutes till each lunch, when she would sit next to Mike and place a hand at his side. Each day, a few minutes would pass, but Mike's hand always found hers. Their fingers would gently slide into place, or else Mike's thumb would move over the back of her hand, gently brushing her skin and giving her goosebumps. In return, she would meet him at the AV club when school ended. They would walk out to meet Hopper together, all while Mike prepped her for character creation and told her about the many rules and mechanics of the game.

“I feel. . .I should take notes,” Jane finally said on Friday.

“Oh,” Mike stopped his endless explanation. “Sorry, I can be a bit—I can get a bit, y'know? There are books with all this stuff, and the party will guide you through.”

“Can I borrow?” Jane asked.

“The books? For sure,” Mike smiled, glad that he had not scared her off before she even got the chance to come over. Jane smiled too, remembering how Mike always understood her back then, even when she could not find the words.

“And,” Jane added as they walked through the school double doors and out toward the parking lot. “Don't say 'sorry'. . .I like being with you, when. . .you're excited—and listening to things you like.”

“I like being with you too,” Mike echoed back, reaching for her hand as they rounded the corner and walked into the parking lot. But as he saw Hopper's car, his hand shrank back, and he quickened his pace. “And I see the Chief, so I'll see you tomorrow?”

Jane nodded and waved goodbye, as Mike took a turn toward the bike rack at the far end of the lot.

* * *

“Call me once dinner starts,” Hopper said for the umpteenth time in the car on the way to Mike's house. “I'll be there forty-five minutes after. And don't hesitate to call me before in case something comes up. I'm gonna be restocking for the next few hours, but I got the radio, and Wheeler's got that walkie. I'll be on the usual channel every half an hour.”

“Yes,” Jane said, too excited and distracted to worry like her guardian. They were pulling onto Mike's street, and Jane could see the house that she had etched in her memory coming into view.

“And don't be picky,” Hopper warned. “It's not polite, so eat whatever they serve—at least a few bites, ok?”

“Ok,” Jane replied, gathering her bag and unlocking the car door. Hopper pulled up to the driveway, but did not follow.

“Mike's mom is Karen, and his dad is Ted. Mind your manners!” he called after her, as Jane shut the door behind her and headed toward the Wheeler's front door.

Jane stood there for a moment, letting the rush of memories pass over her. She heard Hopper's car drive away, and she reached out to press the doorbell. There was a hurried rush of footsteps toward the front door and a familiar voice called, “I got it!” The door flung open, and Mike was in front of her.

“Hi, Mike,” Jane lit up.

“Hi,” he smiled back. “Let's go.” He reached for her hand, and she let herself be led into the house toward the basement.

But before they could get to the stairs, Jane felt Mike stop and drop her hand, as a voice called from behind them: “Hold on, hold on. Mike, aren't you gonna introduce your new friend?”

The two turned to face Mrs. Wheeler, smiling at them with a pleasant air. “Mom, I said already: this is Jane Hopper. C'mon, everyone's already downstairs.”

“It's nice to meet you, Jane,” Mrs. Wheeler shook her hand and gave a knowing look toward Mike.

“Karen Wheeler,” Jane said. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Wheeler,” she echoed back.

“You're staying for dinner. Right, Jane?” Mrs. Wheeler asked. “I asked Mike to invite you: it's always good to get to know his new friends, and we'll be happy to have you.”

“Yes, please,” Jane nodded.

“That's good.”

“Ok,” Mike sighed. “That's settled. Let's go, Jane. Thanks, mom.” Without waiting for an answer, Mike turned and headed down the stairs. Jane looked between the two, then followed Mike.

She could see Max and Lucas on the couch with controllers in their hands, both of them looking at the TV. Will was in a corner, examining tapes near a stereo that was playing music at a low volume. Dustin had a chair with a TV tray, and it looked like he was doing homework.

“Hi, Jane,” Dustin greeted without looking up from his books.

“Hi,” Will waved.

“Yo,” Max called from the couch, while Lucas seemed to have a singular focus.

“Hi, everyone,” Jane called to the room at large.

“Make sure you guys stick to the half-hour rotation,” Mike said, sitting himself down at the round table in the middle of the basement and pulling out the chair next to him for Jane. “And don't listen to Will; he wants to play. Besides, neither of you have started on that project—Lucas,” he added pointedly.

“We got it!” Lucas yelled, as he played even more furiously.

Jane watched as Mike pulled out a small, thin, rose-colored notebook. He handed it to her, along with two pencils and some pieces of scratch paper. “So we are gonna record your player stats in there,” he explained, pointing to the notebook. “It's also for note-taking and anything else you want to write down, mostly while we are playing. Some people record information they gather, or track combat statistics—but it's completely up to you. You'll have Dustin and Will in your party, so don't worry too much about it. It's your character's information, stats, abilities, and equipment you really need to keep track of.”

Jane nodded along, as Mike pulled three books toward him. One, Jane could see, was bright red and had a dragon on the cover; one of the others was black with a red monster holding a sword on the cover.

“So, we already talked about it, but did you decide what class and race you wanna be? I have the rules for all the latest stuff: in fact, Dustin is a half-ling Bard; Lucas is a human Ranger, and Max is also human. Her class is a customized version—we call it Zoomer. I could do that for you too, though that would take weeks, maybe. Will's magic-user died a few campaigns back, so he's a half-elf Cleric now. Uh, sorry,” Mike looked at El, who had heard all this before and was staring at him with a polite smile.

“It's ok,” Jane said. “I want to be an elf. . .but for a class, I'm not sure.”

“Cool,” Will said from the corner. “None of us have played an elf before.”

“You should be a mage,” Dustin called without looking up from his book. “A lot to remember, but you can ride that shit out till 11th level.”

“It's a lot,” Mike emphasized. “On the other hand, I do have a mage in mind, as far as backstory and integration into the party goes.” Jane could see Mike become suddenly flustered, and his face was noticeably red. He messed with his notes, and gathered a large amount of dice that were scattered about the table. “Anyway, want me to go over the classes before you make your decision?”

Jane shook her head. “Mage,” she decided. “I'll do my best.” And with that, the two were off.

They took a break about three hours in, and the rest of the party started to look over their progress. They all made excited comments and suggested ideas on which first-level spells to prepare, and Dustin gave brief descriptions. Will told her about strategies he had used previously, and Max happily recounted some of the cooler moments from their last campaign.

“We can stop here, I think,” Mike chimed in, after it was clear that the momentum of their character creation had died. “Did you wanna work on some homework, Jane? You mentioned a section in Algebra that was giving you trouble? Or we can look at the History project?”

“I'm actually gonna head out,” Dustin said, already gathering his books. “Wanna check the library.”

“What?” Lucas exclaimed. “Most of it's our opinion, right? Did we need to read more than what's in our textbook?” He looked around to the rest of the party.

Dustin shrugged as he walked toward the stairs. “Finished that part, and we need at least one outside source for the compare and contrast page at the end. I already got an idea, so see ya!”

“Well, shit,” Lucas said. “It's anything from this semester, so I bet he's doing something about the Civil War. Should we all do that? Might be able to use the same book that Dustin gets.”

“Do what you want,” Max said unconcerned. “I'm gonna head with Dustin though. Better to go together, if I gotta at all.” And she started to gather her things as well.

“Uh, yeah,” Lucas did the same. “For sure, I'm in. He doesn't bike fast, we'll catch him in no time. Will, you in?”

“My mom is gonna be here soon,” Will responded with a shrug. “No point.”

“See ya then,” Lucas ran up the stairs. “Bye, Jane. Later, Mike,” he called.

“Bye,” they echoed.

“I'll help put up,” Will said, reaching across the table for some papers and dice. “Wanna get out Algebra, Mike? I'm done, but you could look it over for me.”

“For sure,” they smiled at each other. “Jane, did you bring it with you?”

“No,” she admitted with a tinge of guilt. She had given no thought to doing homework today. “I haven't started.”

“That works too,” Mike brought out his textbook. “You can use mine and get started, while I look over yours, Will.”

“Ok,” Jane agreed, though she felt disappointed that their one-on-one session was done. Time passed by, but she could not concentrate. She kept glancing across the table at Will and Mike, sitting side by side and looking somehow otherworldly. She felt, more than saw, a glimpse of the perfect world that she had dreamed of the last three years. She wished that she had always been in Will's place: in that world by Mike's side. . .and Will in her place: trapped, taken away, and alone.

'_Stop it_,' she told herself fiercely. '_You're here. You're right here._' She wiped her face and asked, “Restroom?”

“Up the stairs and to the left into the hallway,” Mike answered, still concentrating on a specific problem. “It's the first door.”

Jane headed up and spent a few minutes in front of the mirror after washing up. It was like this sometimes, she reminded herself. Since coming to Hawkins, she had not truly felt the loneliness, helplessness, fear, and self-loathing of her old life in the cabin. But she had experienced hours—or at worst days—of this melancholy.

“Say it,” she said aloud to her reflection. “Again. And breathe,” she remembered the sessions she had with social services, and the therapy books her aunt had got her. “You're here. You're right here. You're here. . .don't waste it,” she told herself.

Distantly, she heard the doorbell ring, and the sound of Ms. Byer's voice. She fixed her hair and hurried out to say goodbye to Will and his mom. Joyce Byers fussed over the boys a bit, then gave Jane a hug that she had not realized she needed. Finally, she chatted and said thank you to Mrs. Wheeler, before leaving with Will.

“There's about an hour before dinner,” Mrs. Wheeler turned to Jane.

“We have some homework to finish,” Mike offered. “Just call us. C'mon, Jane,” and Mike walked off.

“Ok, then,” Mrs. Wheeler smiled at Jane, as the latter turned to follow down the stairs.

“Sorry, Jane,” she could hear Mike saying as she reached the basement. “Will turned out not to need much help, and you haven't gotten very far at all.”

Jane could see Mike looking over her scrap work, and she rushed over to gather them in a pile away from his gaze. There was math on the top page, which is all Mike managed to see, she hoped. The rest were filled with poor doodles of her new DnD character, ideas for her backstory, and. . .

“I just thought I saw my name,” Mike said bashfully. “That's why I came to look, sorry.”

“It's ok,” Jane put the rose-colored notebook Mike had given her into her backpack, along with the loose papers—including the one filled with differing variations of _Mike Wheeler, Michael Wheeler, Mike and Jane, Jane and Michael, Jane Hopper and Michael Wheeler, El and Mike, _and _L & M_. “Handwriting practice,” she confessed.

_'I'm being stupid,'_ she told herself. _'Get out of your head and be here with him now.'_

“Ok,” Mike said, at a loss. He pulled his chair around to her side of the table, and opened the Algebra textbook to the beginning of the section. “Let's start from the top.”

The two made swift progress for the first half-hour, as Mike divided the problems into groups based on the formulas that would solve them. But once they got through an example problem from each, Jane's mind started to wander. She had already tried to take in so much information today, and along with the excitement of being back in Mike's house, she just could not keep up. His explanations were starting to make less and less sense, and they had been stuck on the same problem for ten minutes.

“Hey, Jane,” Mike said, as she struggled to re-do the problem again. She looked up from her work. “I don't think I'm helping much,” he said, and she could see now the tired look in his eyes. “I can explain it better, I swear. I'm just getting hungry, and um, I can't stay focused.”

“I'm the same,” Jane said consolingly, and without thinking she moved her hand toward his on the table. Mike's eyes fixed on the motion, and as her fingers began to curl back, he placed his hand on top of hers.

“Jane,” Mike breathed.

“Yes, Mike,” she answered. Her fingers were wrapped in his now, and their bodies faced each other, so close that their knees were touching.

“I like you,” he confessed. “Not like a friend. . .like uh—uh—” But before he could get it out, Mike felt her hand on his cheek, and her lips against his. He did not pull away, and she could feel his lips open against hers, breathe in, and close again. Her lips did the same, kissing him again, and once more. He could feel a smile form on her lips, and he paused.

“Like this,” Jane finished for him.

“Mm-hm,” Mike nodded, as she leaned back in her chair to look at him. Mike could see the same stare that had attracted him to Jane the first day they met: like he was the only thing in her world. “How could I be so lucky?” Jane giggled, and squeezed his hand. “Did I say that out loud?” Mike laughed a bit with her. “I just mean. . .no one has ever felt that way about me, so it's surprising. I keep thinking, 'why?'” Mike looked away, and scratched his head, like he was kicking himself on the inside.

“You said the same—when I wanted to be friends,” Jane answered.

“I didn't get it then either,” Mike shot back.

'_Shut up, shut up, shut up_,' he berated himself.

Jane's smile faltered a bit, and she looked away as well. But she squeezed Mike's hand, and he felt that she was searching for the right words. So he waited, and after a minute she began. “Did you meet someone who you trusted. . .right away. And, when—the more you are with them. . .the more it felt right: the more you wanted to—to be more.”

Mike could see the blush creep up her cheek as she spoke, but he was not sure if she was embarrassed at what she had said, or how she had said it. Either way, Mike remembered El, and a twinge of guilt pained his chest. “Once,” he admitted.

“And,” Jane forced herself to look at Mike again. “Did you have 'why', then?”

'_Will was missing_,' Mike thought. '_El was the only lead. She was new and different. She wasn't grossed out by me. She needed me and that felt good. She trusted me too. . .but that's not why I wanted to be with her. I brought her home from the woods because I felt a pull toward her. Even when she was gone, I felt pulled toward her. But. . .Jane is pulling me in now._' He closed his eyes and tried to remember El's face; and for a moment he had it, but in another moment all he could see was Jane: her smile, her hair, her stare. . .

“Maybe a lot,” Mike finally answered. “Or maybe not. I guess, I don't know.”

“Me neither,” Jane said. It was not a lie, she told herself. She was speaking as El, not Jane; and El did not know why she had trusted Mike back then, or why she had continued to think about him when her new life began. “But Mike,” she suddenly started, grabbing both his hands. “We are friends, right?”

Her voice was desperate, Mike thought. He said with a serious tone, “We are, yes. We are.” His throat felt suddenly dry, and he swallowed noiselessly.

“Mike,” she squeezed his hand and looked at him with that sublime stare. “Friends don't lie. Party rules,” she said. “We're friends: no matter what?”

“No matter what,” he said without hesitation, and he saw the intensity and worry in her face fade away. The silence stretched on for a few minutes, and Mike felt the mood change back to that intimate something he could not describe. Or rather, whenever he tried to focus on that feeling—that atmosphere—his mind stopped working, and other urges gripped him.

All the while, Jane kept his gaze. He could feel her hands fidget in his, as he grazed her skin with his thumbs and moved to feel her wrists and forearm. He stole glances at her chest every time he heard her breathe in deeply, and at her mouth when she pursed her lips and gave them a nervous bite.

“We can be,” Jane spoke up and leaned in even closer to Mike. “I want to be. . .this too,” she finished, closing her eyes. Mike closed the gap, feeling her lips on his once again. And he kept their embrace, till her hands were on his chest, forcing him away. “Maybe,” she kept her eyes closed, breathing the words out onto Mike's cheek and moving ever closer to his ear.

“Yes?” he shuddered, almost feeling her lips on his skin.

“When we're alone,” she said. “This too.”

“That sounds nice,” Mike smiled. Jane pressed her cheek to his and smiled too. “I think I might be too embarrassed with others around, uh—to be honest.” Jane laughed softly, and threw her arms around Mike. He stood up with her, and brought Jane close.

“Me too,” Jane said into his chest.

“Dinner, you two!” Mike shot away from Jane at lightning speed, knowing his mom's habit of peeking into rooms before announcing her presence. Still, he held her hand on instinct. Jane could see Mrs. Wheeler walk halfway down the stairs and peek over the banister. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Mike said a little too loudly. “We'll be right up.”

His mom raised an eyebrow, registered their locked hands, nodded, and made her way back. “Hurry, you need to set the table.”

'_She only saw us hugging_,' Mike told himself. '_Definitely, or else she would have said something to get our attention sooner.'_

“Oh,” Jane turned on her heels to look at Mike. “I need to call—Jim,” she explained.

“No problem,” he started gathering up the rest of her stuff. “I'll show you. Let's go.”

* * *

Before Jane had left Mike's that night, while Mrs. Wheeler talked with Hopper, she had pulled Mike aside and whispered a fear. She thought about her words carefully during dinner, and said into his ear, “Mike. . .you can ask me anything.”

'_Ask if it's me,_' she thought. '_Ask if I'm El_.'

“Me too,” Mike had whispered back. But before either of them could say more, Hopper had called Jane over, and they had left. “Bye,” Mike had called from the doorway, and she had turned back and waved with a smile.

Now, she was back in her room, feeling simultaneous exhausted from the trials of the day and completely unable to fall asleep. Though not the first night like this, it was the first sleepless night where she felt so happy. Closing the door, Jane had grabbed the old flannel draped across her desk chair, and hugged it to her chest as she collapsed on her bed. She remembered wearing it on those troubled nights, when thoughts of Papa would not go away. She would be brought back to Hawkins, back to the cabin. . .and Mike's flannel would bring her out into the woods, then into his basement. But it did not fit anymore.

'_I wonder if he would give me another_,' Jane thought, burying her face in the cloth.

With sudden embarrassment, thoughts of today were shoved aside as she remembered the last time she had worn Mike's flannel. It had been almost a year ago in her last foster home: the one she had liked the most because of Kali, her foster sister. They had never been close, but Kali had been there for her, and she had taught her so much.

“_You've never?”_ Jane could hear Kali's voice in her head. _“This is what I want you to do. No cots, no kids, take my room later when the family takes us to church. I'll tell them you're sick. Take off your clothes—listen now, take them off, get under the covers, and explore your body.” _She had said the last words with emphasis and a knowing look. _“Back and forth between your legs with a sensitive touch and a boy on your mind—or girl, if that's your thing—and you're body will get you there.”_

Jane felt too ashamed to shed her clothes that afternoon, but taking the other piece of Kali's advice, she instead had put on Mike's flannel and nothing else. She had washed it dozens of times by then, but she tried to imagine how Mike had smelled and breathed the shirt in as she ran her fingers across her chest. . .then down her neck and sides. . .and finally between her thighs. She had imagined Mike laying next her, enveloping her in his arms, and placing his hand there. Back and forth, and back and forth, she traced the soft, sensitive skin till she found pleasure at a spot near the top. She had run her fingers side to side, rubbing the skin over this blissful area as jolts of pleasure went up her spine—parting her lips in small cries and calls for _“Mike. . .mike. . .Mike!”_

The memory of it was making her hot now, as she stretched out under the covers with that same flannel laying on her chest. She reached down to slide off her underwear, as those memories from a year ago mingled with the fresh moments that she had shared with Mike an hour ago. She knew just where to go this time, as her fingers spread the skin over her clit. But all the previous fantasies she had conjured up, during those few times she had the foster home to herself, shrank to the back of her mind; and thoughts of the Homecoming dance, and school lunches, and the basement replayed in her head.

Her hand and the heat in between her legs compelled her to move faster and faster over that place of pleasure, and her other hand moved down just below—placing two fingers to feel and play with the depth of her body. She could see Mike holding her in that basement right before they were called upstairs; but this time no one came to stop them, and Mike was slipping one hand under her shirt and the other grabbed her hair. His hand moved up her back, mirroring the spread of pleasure she was feeling at this moment in her bed. And she was kissing him furiously, on his neck and lips and tongue—and suddenly she was screaming silently into Mike's flannel. Her body tensed, then relaxed, and her hands went limp. Almost immediately, sleep began to take her, and without another thought, she let herself drift away.

* * *

The shower head sprayed water onto the bathroom wall next to Mike, as he knelt in the bathtub and released into the drain with a groan. The visions of Jane spread out under him on the basement floor faded from his mind, as his grip loosened and he reached for the bar of soap.

_'I'm fucking pathetic,' _Mike thought, cleaning himself off as he stood up and pushed the remaining cum on the bathtub floor into the drain with his foot.

Mike had helped with the dishes after Jane left. He finished quickly, not wanting his mom following or interrupting, then he ran upstairs and jumped into the shower. His mind provided visions of Jane in the basement, right before his mom had interrupted. She broke their embrace to take off her shirt, then she pulled him into a corner of the room. Their clothes were off in a flash of imagination, and Mike only managed to last another moment. The shame came immediately after.

_'She's not like that,' _Mike told himself. _'She's the chief's daughter, and it's a miracle she even talks to you, let alone likes you.' _

_'She does like me though.' _That much was true, undeniably so. And they could be like he imagined, one day.

_'If I don't fuck it up.' _Mike sighed and turned off the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly Updates! Please Read and Review / Comment and Kudo, thank you.


	5. Halloween

“So,” Mike said at the lunch table on Tuesday, “I know none of us were gonna Trick-or-Treat this year, but you know how Jane mentioned yesterday that she'd never been. I was thinking we could take Holly and her friends—my parents had already asked me to take them.” Mike finished lamely, as Dustin, Will, and Lucas continued chewing and looking at him with blank stares.

“So,” Lucas said first.

“Well,” Mike swallowed and put another bit of food in his mouth to stall for time. “Halloween's on a Friday this year. Plenty of kids our age still out. We could just buy cheap masks or something, and get free candy with Holly as a cover. What do you think?”

Lucas and Dustin both looked toward Will, who shot them a glance. “Uh, about that,” Will began. “I was waiting for Jane and Max to bring it up, and you were busy babysitting, like you said, so I hadn't told you—“

“Jennifer Hayes invited him to the Halloween party at her house,” Dustin cut to the point. “She said he could bring anyone, so Lucas and I were gonna gate crash.”

“It's not crashing, if you got an invite,” Lucas rolled his eyes. Dustin shrugged.

“Maybe you and Jane could stop by,” Will offered. “No, listen,” he went on, as Mike looked downcast and dismissive, starting back on his food. “Holly is only gonna be out for an hour or two; the chief is definitely gonna be busy Halloween night with the a-hole's in this town. We can tell everyone were watching a movie at . . . Dustin's house! He's only two blocks down from Jen's house.”

“Jen?” Dustin perked up and gave Will an incredulous stare. Will gave him a disdainful look and waited for Mike's answer.

“Maybe,” Mike responded, as Jane and Max walked up and took their seats.

“Maybe, what?” Max jumped in.

“I was saying Mike and Jane should come to Jennifer's party on Halloween,” Will supplied.

“Thought you were babysitting, Wheeler?” Max asked.

“I'm taking Holly out trick-or-treating with Jane, right?” Mike looked to Jane with a small plea in his tone.

“Yes!” She responded through a mouth-full of sandwich. She swallowed and smiled, “Yes, please.”

“But you can come after,” Dustin began. “Take Holly at five—it should already be getting dark. You'll be back by six, and Hopper's not picking you up till eight, right? That's a solid hour to an hour and a half of party time!” Dustin spread out his hands toward the party as if he was expecting applause for the plan. When he got shifting gazes and silence—and Lucas mouthing _“Party time?”_—he persisted. “We can tell Mrs. Wheeler that you two came to my house to watch a movie. That was Will's idea,” he looked at Jane and motioned toward Will. “What do you think?”

The table took to eating again, as Jane gathered her thoughts. “I want to go trick-or-treating,” she said. Mike smiled down at his food. “And to party—sounds fun. But. . .I don't want to. I won't lie to Jim—to the Chief.”

“You don't have to say anything!” Lucas argued. “We'll do the lying.”

“Dude,” Mike scolded.

“Mike's right,” Will added. “It was a half-assed suggestion to begin with.”

“Ok, hold on,” Max said with a harsh tone. “Why don't we just ask Hopper? I mean he said 'yes' to Jane spending Halloween with Mike, right? And you said before,” she pointed a plastic fork at Mike and continued, “that he prefers if the party is always around. Well, just ask him if you can meet up with us at Hayes's house after you take Holly. He can pick you up from there. Her parents will be there the whole time, and lots of kids. What's to say 'no' to?”

The table went silent again, as Jane looked to each of the boys in turn, then at Max. “Well,” Lucas spoke first, “when you put it like that.”

“It's a boy-and-girl party,” Dustin said flatly. “He's not gonna say 'yes' to that.”

“You don't have to say it like that,” Max shot back. “Putting things in the best light,” she said slowly, in the tone of someone explaining that one plus one is two, “is not lying. And you boys should try compromise before confrontation.”

“Ok, ok,” Mike conceded. “Jane, what do you think?”

“That's Jennifer?” Jane asked, pointing to a blonde-haired girl a few tables over.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. Jane got up without another word and headed over. There were calls behind her from Mike and the others, but she continued on. About five steps away from the table, Jane noticed the girls around Jennifer suddenly stop talking and shift their gaze toward her.

“Hi, Jane,” Jennifer said pleasantly, and the rest of the girls instantly seemed to relax. Jane recognized one as the girl in her Social Studies class that teased her about her clothes—Liz, Max had said her name was. “We haven't really met, but you were with Will's friends at Homecoming.” Jane nodded. There was silence for a while; Jennifer's smile faltered a bit, and she glanced back and forth at her friends. “Did you—“

“Sorry,” Jane interrupted. “Will invited us. . .to the Halloween party.” There was another silence, which Jennifer let persist for a few seconds before filling the awkward void.

“I told him to invite whoever,” Jennifer agreed. She leaned back so Jane could see the girl sitting next to her. This girl was taller than Jennifer, and she had loose, brown curls like Jane. She reminded Jane of the old pictures of Mike's sister, Nancy. “This is Allison. She danced with Dustin, remember? I was already hoping Will would—”.

The other girls' giggling grew out of control, and Allison nudged Jennifer to stop talking. Jane spoke up, and the girls quieted again. “Is it okay if I come, and Mike?” All the girls smiled, and Jane saw the two at the opposite side of the table whisper to each other.

“Of course,” Jennifer said with enthusiasm.

“Are you two dating?” One of the other girls asked suddenly. “You and Mike,” she said, when Jane looked back at her blankly.

Jane looked back at Jennifer, who was not hiding her own curiosity. As Jennifer took a long drink from her thermos, she answered in barely more than a whisper, “We. . .haven't been on a date.”

“Don't worry,” Jennifer shot up, lowering her voice. “We'll help things along. Come to the party, ok?” Then in a louder voice she added, “Bye, Jane,” and waved her away. Jane took the dismissal with a smile, realizing that Jennifer was sparing her more questions from the others.

“What just happened?” Max asked before the others could.

Jane smiled at them, then looked at Mike. “We're invited, if you wanna go.”

“I do,” Mike said. “I mean, if you want to too.” Jane nodded, and gathered up her food, most of it untouched. Mike did the same. “Ok, I'll talk to Hopper,” he looked at the rest of the group, who nodded and celebrated the premature victory.

He followed Jane out of the cafeteria. There was still ten minutes left before the bell, and the hallways were mostly empty. When they got to Jane's locker, Mike watched her stop and turn to face him. _'There's that look again,'_ Mike thought. _'Like it's just me and her. . .if it were,'_ Mike stepped forward, and Jane put out her hand to bring him closer. Mike took her hand and held it against the locker at their side, out of view from the few who passed them in the hallway. _'It doesn't matter if they know, but I want this all to myself. Or am I just embarrassed?'_ Mike looked down at Jane's fingers, moving to intertwine with his.

“Mike?” He heard Jane say his name. It reminded him of El, but the guilt felt less sharp this time. Every day Jane was with him, the past felt farther and farther away. “I know we can't,” she continued. “Without lying. . .But if you ask me—if you asked me on date,” Jane leaned forward to catch his gaze again, and Mike looked up with his mouth open. “I would say 'yes'.”

“When,” Mike said almost immediately, squeezing her hand a bit tighter. “When I ask you on—on ah-a date.”

“When,” Jane blushed and squeezed back. “I'll say 'yes'.” Mike nodded.

* * *

Jane thought the conversation with Hopper went as well as she could have hoped for. He heard Mike out, if stoically, and gave him an answer she had become used to: “We'll discuss it.”

They were discussing it now. “I know we agreed, “ Jane said. “But I wanted to ask.” Hopper was tapping his finger on the wheel, resolutely not looking at her.

“Hayes,” he said eventually. “Hayes, Hayes, Hayes. . .they're hippies.”

“Hippies?” Jane repeated. She remembered hearing the word before, maybe when her aunt was talking about her mother, but she could not remember what it meant.

“Dad's a mechanic now,” Hopper seemed to be mostly talking to himself. _'He's on some kind of dope,'_ the Chief doubted that he ever kicked the habit from high-school. _'Could be in the house. . .could be like father like daughter.'_

“Jennifer is nice,” Jane added in the way of a response. “Will Byers is her friend.”

Wheeler had mentioned that the others would be there. “I'll talk to Joyce. Whatever happens: I pick you up at 8pm from Wheeler's house. Can we agree on that? Once and for all?”

“Yes,” Jane said, crossing her arms and retreating from the fight for now.

Meanwhile, Mike was putting his bike in the trunk of Bob's car and heading home with Will. On the way, they talked strategy on how to convince Hopper to give a firm 'yes' to the party. They both figured he would reach out to their parents—double check their story and get as much information as possible. Max had them covered there: Dustin's lie would never have gotten passed Hopper's recon. The truth was best, and now to frame it.

“I don't know how reassuring my mom is gonna be,” Will said with a frown. “She'll tell Hopper to let her go, for sure. But she might over share on the Hayes family.” Will leaned toward Mike in the backseat and whispered, “The party's in the basement, and Jen's parents aren't gonna be watching us. I don't think anything's gonna happen, and neither does my mom, but that information isn't gonna make the Chief happy.”

“That's why we're gonna talk to her first,” Mike said. “Nothing obvious. Let's just tell your mom that it's important to Jane. It's her first party. New friends—and we'll all be there. Max will be there. Focus on us and her, and not on the Hayes's.”

“Ok, got it,” Will said a little exasperated.

Their interactions with Ms. Byers went just as planned, as far as Mike could tell. There was still no telling what exactly she would say to Hopper, but over the course of the afternoon and dinner, Mike was sure that they had steered her mind toward sympathy for Jane and confidence in the party.

As he was getting on his bike after dinner, he heard the phone ring from inside the house and the faint sound of Ms. Byer's voice answer, “Byer's residence. Hey, Hop.”

_'Out of our hands, now,' _Mike tried to tell himself. But as he biked home, Mike started planning his next conversation with the Chief. By the time he arrived, Mike was so tired he gave up on a shower and set his alarm ten minutes early, figuring he would hop in tomorrow before school. His last thought was of the shitty ghost and vampire costume that he and Jane would be wearing the night of the party.

The next day, Jane gave them an update at lunch. “He said 'yes',” Jane told them, but the lack of enthusiasm in her voice made them all predict what was coming. Jane took a moment, then continued, “But he wants me back at Mike's by eight, and he wants to meet Jennifer. Do you—,” she turned to Will. “Would she come with me after school, do you think?”

“That's not so bad,” Dustin cut in. “But meeting the Chief: that's intimidating for anyone.”

“I don't know, Jane,” Will said honestly with a sad, but comforting smile.

“Heads up,” Max nodded in a direction away from the table, and Jane turned to see Jennifer approaching alone.

“Hi, Will,” she called with a wave. “Hi, Jane.” She nodded, as Jennifer took the seat between her and Will that was usually reserved for Mike. Jane could see him getting food across the cafeteria—he had been late for homeroom and also forgotten his lunch. Jennifer leaned in, facing away from the rest of the table so that only Jane could hear her. “So is he coming Friday?” She jerked her head in Mike's direction.

This girl had such enthusiasm in her eyes and voice that Jane could not help but speak. “Yes, but—”

“But what? Parents giving you a hard time,” she whispered, as if she knew the answer.

“Yes,” Jane said again. “Jim wants to meet you before—m-maybe after school today?”

“Who?”

“My—Chief Hopper,” Jane tried to explain.

There was a long pause, then Jennifer asked, “You call your dad 'Jim'?” Jennifer practically mouthed the question, but Jane did not answer right away this time.

“Hi, Jennifer,” Mike said, standing plate in hand beside his usual seat.

“Oh, hi,” the girl practically launched herself off the seat. “See you after school then, Jane,” she waved and headed off to her usual table.

Mike sat down and looked at Jane. “You ok?” She nodded, and he looked backed to the rest of the table. “What was that about?”

“Jane asked her to meet Hopper,” Lucas supplied. “It's his condition for letting her go to the party.”

“We got off that easy?” Mike nearly yelled the question. He looked toward Jane in disbelief. “Well, what did she say?”

“I,” Jane started. “I'm not—I don't know.”

“She said she'd see you after school,” Will answered for her. “I'm pretty sure that means 'yes'.”

“You're probably in Home Ec. with her, right Jane?”

Jane was eating now and took her time to think. Max answered in her place, “Most of the girls in our grade are in Home Ec.” Jane nodded and kept eating.

“Well, I'll be there too,” Mike said. “Tell Jennifer to meet you at the school doors—I'll duck out of AV club a minute or two early and be there.”

Jane reached out under the table and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Mike.”

For the rest of lunch, Dustin provided wild conjectures as to what the party would be like, and who would be there. When Will joked that Jennifer had invited Kevin and Troy, Mike and Dustin both went into a coughing fit. Will gave a mischievous smile and the rest of the party burst into laughter.

In Home Ec., Jane did as Mike suggested, and Jennifer agreed to meet her after the last bell. She even convinced their usual partners to switch for the day. It was quickly apparent to Jane that Jennifer meant to continue her questioning from lunch.

“So, it's true,” she started once the teacher had given them the day's project. “That you're not Chief Hopper's daughter?”

Jane blushed, not knowing what to say. “He. . .he's been so good to me—like a father.”

“What happened to your parents?” Jennifer prodded further, but somehow Jane did not feel the prickle of pain that usually accompanied these questions from her classmates. This girl had such an open warmth, and Jane felt that she was not teasing or looking down on her. Still, she did not answer.

“I've never called him 'dad',” Jane decided to answer her question from lunch instead. “I would want to, if he asked. I just—I don't know.” Jane looked away, but hoped that answer would be enough.

“I'm sorry, Jane,” Jennifer said a little ashamed. “I'm sure it can't be a happy story. Let's talk about something else, is that ok?”

“Ok,” Jane said, forcing a smile.

“Good!” Jennifer smiled back. She then lowered her voice and asked, “So what about Mike?”

Jane looked down at their work again. “Mike?”

“Yeah,” she said with a devilish tone. “Liz is in your homeroom, and she said you had 'the eyes' for him from moment one. I can kinda see it: he's gotten more handsome since middle-school, but too stand-off-ish for me. Not shy, ya'know? He can be downright rude.” Jane felt the fire rise as anger within her, and she was about to yell at her in the middle of class—but a memory cooled her head: one of Max saying, _“He's just a nerd who doesn't know how to talk to girls. Remember how long it took him to get use to me?”_

“He can be a jerk,” Jane echoed the name Mike had once called himself. “He can't. . .doesn't know how to talk to others, and he's over—really protects his friends. I guess. . .we're alike.” It took a long time to get out everything, and there was still a lot she wanted to say, but Jennifer started again.

“I guess I get that. Just your type,” she shrugged. “Anyway, you two haven't been on a date. But you're like together, right? Like Max and Lucas.”

Jane gave her a quizzical look, before remembering the Homecoming dance. “They like each other as more than friends.”

She nodded. “It's been like that from the start,” she said the last word with exasperation. “Will won't tell me anything when it comes to what he calls 'party affairs'.” Her tone sounded annoyed, but she had a smile on her face.

“Do you—“ Jane cut-in. “Do you like Will like that?”

Jennifer looked nonplussed, and seemed to think on the question. “I did, but—well. . .” She considered the other girl for a moment, and Jane kept her gaze. “I'm not Will's type. I think that's all there is to say.” She shrugged again, “But we're good friends. We can be friends too.” She smiled at Jane.

“I'd like that,” Jane answered.

“Good, anyway—about the party, and Mike.” Jane waited. “We're gonna play Truth or Dare, so it's gonna get to the point where I ask you, right? You need to pick dare, ok?”

“Ok,” Jane agreed, but the confusion on her face was evident. The blonde girl gave her a doubtful look, and Jane admitted, “I don't know 'Truth or Dare'.”

“Oh. . .Ok, well. . .” Jennifer took some time to explain the game, and eventually Jane understood, but she was not exactly excited to play.

There were so many things she did not want other people to know—not to mention the party. _'Not yet, at least,' _she thought. _'Not because of a game.'_ But a dare, that somehow might be worse. You had to do whatever someone asked? The possibilities were endless, and Jane felt her imagination go wild before her brain suddenly stopped working all together. Jennifer seemed to sense the distress she had caused, and they spent the rest of the class focusing on their assignment.

After the last bell, Jane walked out of the school with Jennifer to see Mike and Will already waiting for them. They walked up together to meet Hopper in the parking lot, while Jennifer showed nervousness for the first time. “You two are seriously freaking me out,” she said, as Will and Mike walked on either side of her—their faces tense and fists clenched. “I know he's the chief of police and all, but he always seemed alright to me.” Jane smiled to herself, but the boys gave no answer.

It turned out that they had nothing to worry about. Hopper's tone from the start was welcoming and softer than Mike could ever remember hearing. “Jen is great with parents,” Will told Mike and Jane after. “You should have seen the job she pulled on my mom last summer. She's still asking me every other weekend to have her over—never mind the house being a mess half the time.”

On the car ride home, Hopper told Jane, “Well, I didn't expect that. Must have been a strong wind the day she was born, for the apple to fall that far from the tree.”

“What?” Jane asked.

“Nothing,” Hopper dismissed. “Only I knew her parents—a long time ago now, I guess—and they were nothing like her in High School.”

“Means I can go?” Jane asked with unabashed excitement.

“I already said so, didn't I? I just wanted to meet her first,” Hopper huffed. “I might look in on Drew and Mary, her parents,” Hopper added at Jane's puzzled look.

“But,” she tried to think of an argument against this embarrassing course of action. “I mean. . .you'll pick me up at Mike's—at eight, right?” She could not bear the thought of Jim interrupting the party and calling her to leave in front of Jennifer, and the party, and everyone.

“Right, I know,” Hopper said, trying to placate her. He was obviously upsetting her again. _'This is being a kid, remember old man?' _He told himself. _'It's what you wanted: for her to go out, make friends, forget the past and enjoy today.' _

“Ok then,” Jane fell silent.

“It's ok,” Hopper said after a while. “Have fun, and especially be careful riding home with Mike after, ok?”

“Yes,” Jane nodded, and she spent the rest of the car ride thinking about that small window of time that she would be alone with Mike.

* * *

Halloween night had one small hiccup, but was otherwise going well. Jane had called Mike before leaving for his house and begged him to switch costumes. He had only suggested a ghost because two holes cut in a sheet was the easiest thing he could think of—he was going as a vampire because his parents still had the fake-blood, teeth, and make-up from their costumes last year, when they had attended a party and left him to babysit Holly for the first time.

“Yeah, no problem,” Mike had told her when she called, deciding that it was best not to pry. Jane's voice seemed panicked, almost wounded. “It will be easier to put the makeup on another person anyway, and I don't mind wearing the sheet.”

So Jane arrived a bit early, and Mike had her sit still as he applied the foundation to make her face and neck pale. He took a few seconds trying to apply the dark eye-shadow, before Jane asked for a mirror and said she could do that herself. The truth was being so close for that long a time had flustered them both, and they were silently thankful for the space. Mike came to finish the red dye that dripped from the side of her mouth like blood; gave her the false, plastic fangs; but suggested that she take them out once they started to feel uncomfortable.

“Wear this too,” Mike handed her a black, denim jacket. “It was Nancy's, but it should fit. That trailer just came out—y'know _The Lost Boys_—anyway, the vampires were wearing black and that's the closest I could find. I have an old black T-shirt too, and don't worry cuz we'll have time for you to change back.”

Jane had not objected, throwing the shirt and jacket over the clothes she was already wearing. After that, the night went smoothly. They took Holly and her friends as far as six blocks over to all the best places Mike had discovered over the years with his friends. Jane held his hand the whole time and had a smile glued to her face. After an hour or two, they were back at the house. Jane used the face scrub Mike had retrieved from Nancy's room to removed the makeup, then took the shirt off.

“Can I wear this?” Jane asked, as she came into the living room. “It's cold out.”

Mike looked at her up and down. She was wearing her usual blue denim jeans, a two-toned brown turtleneck, and the black jacket over it. “Whatever you want,” he smiled—though it looked mismatched, and he privately hoped she would take it off when they got to Jennifer's house.

Jane was feeling more and more excited by the second, and she could hardly contain her joy as she climbed on the back of Mike's bike with him. “Ready,” she squeezed him.

“Got it,” and with that they were off. _'Oh, it's been a while,'_ Mike thought after a few blocks, as he felt the sweat trickle down his back. . .and a tear down his cheek.

“Are you ok?” Jane spoke into his ear: the bike had wobbled at the last corner. “To switch? I can bike now.”

“I'm fine,” Mike panted. “I'm better than fine,” he was laughing now. “I haven't felt this good,” his voice faltered as he shook his head to clear his vision. “. . .in years.” The night air bit at his cheeks and hands, and the sounds of trick-or-treating still filled the streets. But the only real thing in the world was Jane's hands around him.

Finally, Mike stopped their progress to catch his breath. “It's three houses down, so let's walk the rest of the way.” Jane agreed. So he took off the coat he was wearing to keep warm, and let the cool night air dry his sweat. “I'm gonna set an alarm for us to leave fifteen minutes before eight—should give us enough time,” Mike said, looking down at his watch. “Sorry, it's already six-forty-five.”

“It's ok,” Jane said, taking off the black jacket. “It was good, tonight, already. Thank you, Mike.” He nodded, and turned at the driveway to put his bike on the side of the house.

“Coming,” the two heard someone call from inside, when they rang the doorbell. “Hello,” Mrs. Hayes greeted, as she motioned them inside. “You must be here for Jennifer.”

“Yes ma'am,” Mike answered for them. “I'm Mike Wheeler and this is Jane Hopper.”

“Of course,” she clapped her hands together. “I remember you, Mike. And Jane, it's nice to meet you.”

The two shook hands, but Jane could not bring herself to speak. Mike could hear two sets of conversations happening in the other rooms of the house. One belonged to a group of women in the living room; and the other, Mike could see, was a group of men playing cards around a dinner table.

“Anyway, the kids are down in the basement,” Mrs. Hayes hustled them both over to a door underneath the stairs. “This way. Jennifer,” she shouted the last word through the door and down the stairs. “Mike and Jane are here.”

“About time,” they heard the distinct voice of Dustin call from the basement.

“Hi, everyone,” Mike called back. “Sorry we're late.” Looking around the room, he could see a horror movie playing at a low volume in the corner. He could see Lucas and Max sitting on the couch near the TV; Dustin standing by Allison at a corner table with drinks and food; and Jennifer, two other girls, and two guys from his grade were sitting on the open floor. He recognized one of them as Liz, a girl from homeroom, and Will as well; but he could not think of the others' names.

“Don't mention it,” Jennifer waved them over. “Glad you could come. The movie's almost done, but I got a game planned for after. So have some food and stuff, Mike.” She then walked up and took Jane's hand. “Come and meet, Alex,” she commanded and pulled her over to the group.

Mike stood there dumbfounded for a second, but was quickly distracted by Dustin's voice again. “Mike, you gotta try these sweets. Jennifer made 'em: they're like cookies that taste like Reeses, dude.” He shook off his surprised, and keeping one eye on Jane, he walked over to grab some food.

“Don't forget, okay?” Jennifer whispered into Jane's ear, as she led her on. “Say 'dare' when I ask in the game.” Her voice went back to normal volume, “This is Alex, Jane. He says you have English and Algebra together.”

“Hi, Jane,” the boy with dark, brown hair and green eyes held out his hand.

Jane took it and said a simple, “Hi. Sorry, I can't—don't remember you, from class.” Those were her subjects with Mike, and over the past month she had spent any spare moment in class focused on him. Jane could not name a single person in either class, except Will.

The boy shrugged and tossed his hair back. He had hair sort-of like Will's: straight and a little over-long, so that his bangs hung a bit over his eyes. “I remember you though. Is it true you beat-up Kevin at the Homecoming dance?”

“I—“ Jane began, blushing.

“She barely touched him,” Will cut-in. “I already told you.” Jane nodded in agreement.

The other four laughed, and Alex added: “Too bad! That guy's the biggest jerk on the team.”

“Alex plays on the baseball team too,” Jennifer explained.

“Barely,” Alex corrected her. “We don't have a JV team so the Freshman and Sophomores are just practice for Varsity, but Kevin acts like he's doing everyone a favor—like he could make the starting line-up if he only wanted. Says it's only right to wait till Junior year to play an actual game.” Alex scoffed.

“Alright, alright,” Jennifer said in a calming tone. “Who wants to talk about him anyway? We're talking about Jane. You two have a lot in common.”

“We do?” Jane looked confused.

“Yeah,” Jennifer said with excitement. “Alex just moved to Hawkins this summer: he was the new kid before you started, so he knows what it's like to be poked and prodded by the rest of us.”

“By you, you mean,” Alex cut-in. “You're as nosy as anyone, Jen.”

“Whatever,” the blonde girl smiled. “I actually care though. And besides, I don't know anyway else to be. If you don't like it, there's the door.” Everyone laughed, including Alex.

Jane gave her a big smile. She thought that Jennifer must be one of those people that others can not help but like, and she envied her for it. It was like looking into a strange mirror that showed the exact opposite of your reflection. Jane thought she was always too self-conscious, awkward, emotional, and broken. Jennifer seemed so well put together, confident, self-assured, and aloof-yet-sincere.

_'But,' _a voice inside Jane argued._ 'You still have friends. Will likes you both, and Mike. . .' _It seemed that Mike and Jennifer had gone to school together for a long time, and new each other if only as friends of a friend. But by Jennifer's own admission, they had never grown close. _'And Mike liked you right away, the first time. And even now, even when you've been given another chance, he still likes you best.'_

“Jane?” she heard someone say. The room came back in a flash, as her thoughts retreated. Mike had walked back over to join them on the floor, but it was Will who had spoken.

“Sorry?”

“Alex was asking what brought you to Hawkins,” Will repeated.

“Jim Hopper,” Jane answered immediately. When the group continued to look at her with uncomprehending stares, she tried to explain. “Adopted. Hopper adopted me because. . .” She took a breathe, as she felt Mike shift beside her—and somehow she knew that he wanted to hold her hand, but did not know if he should with the others here. “. . .my family can't. But he is my family now, and I'm really very happy.”

There was silence for only a second, before Alex said, “Same.” Jane looked at him in surprise. “Dad's in county lock-up, and my mom passed away. Been like that for years, till I came to live with the Martins. The adoption papers went through last year, and we moved to Hawkins for a fresh start. I never had friends in Chicago anyway, so I'm happy here too.”

“See,” Jennifer said in her usual cheerful tone, trying to bring the light-mood back to the party. “Told you—you have a lot in common. I know it's hard to talk about that stuff with people who haven't been through it, but now if you ever feel like talking about it, Alex is here.”

“How did I get drafted for this again?” Alex said jokingly. “Not that I mind, Jane. You can count on me,” and he shot Jane comforting smile.

Jane nodded, and after a moment offered, “Thanks. I'll remember, but. . .I can talk about it with someone, who can ask me anything.” She resisted the urge to look at Mike, as he shifted slightly again, but she silently hoped that he remembered her words from last week.

“C'mon, Jane,” Jennifer said, getting to her feet and offering a hand to help Jane up. “I want you to try these cookies I made. Liz, get everyone in a circle and find that coke bottle. The movie's about to roll credits.” Jane followed and felt Jennifer's voice immediately resume in a whisper. “Oh yeah, Mike definitely likes you. He got jealous the second I brought up Alex as someone you could get along with. This is perfect, just remember the plan. Oh, and I convinced Will to back me up.” Jane was about to ask her what she meant by that, but her voice was already back to normal again as she said, “It's these in the corner, and I have iced Yoo-Hoo here, have you tried it? It's like chocolate milk, but not really. Here.”

It was nearly 7:30 by the time Jennifer had gotten everyone to settle into a circle, set up the coke bottle in the middle, and explained the rules. They were doing a variation of Truth-or-Dare with Spin-the-Bottle. She would spin first, and ask Truth-or-Dare to whoever it landed on. Once that person completed the Truth-or-Dare, they would spin the bottle and ask whoever it landed on, etc.

It landed on Will first, who answered “Truth!”

“Boring,” Jennifer teased. “Ok, what's a secret you've never told anyone—not one person! Something you've never said out loud.”

Will thought for a moment. “Uh Mike,” he looked over at his best friend. “I was the one who spilled cranberry juice on Nancy's dress in her Freshman Year.”

“Holy Shit!” Mike palmed his face, and Dustin and Lucas had shocked looks before laughing hysterically. “She didn't talk to me for a month, and my parents took away the Atari!”

“I know, I know,” Will said in an apologetic tone. “I noticed it hanging from her bed post. And I just went in to look and tripped on something on the floor.” Everyone was snickering now, as Dustin and Lucas's laughter seemed infectious—even Will and Mike gave each other a smile.

“Ok, ok,” Jennifer brought them to order. “Spin it, Will.” The bottle landed on Allison, who also picked 'Truth'.

Will thought for another moment, and said, “Is Dustin a good dancer? We've all been wondering.” Dustin's laughter from the last question immediately stopped, and he adopted a look like he had been slapped in the face.

The room was filled with fresh laughter, as Allison blushed and answered in a barely audible voice, “He is.”

“Whelp,” Lucas chimed in. “I owe you a dollar, Mike.” He turned to Dustin and put his arm around him, “He had complete faith in you, Romeo.” Dustin shoved him off, as Allison quickly reached out and gave the bottle a spin.

It landed on Max, who declared triumphantly “Dare”.

“Call Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, and ask if you can take Lucas on a date!” Allison pointed at Max, as if she was passing swift judgment for her embarrassment.

“Ooos,” filled the room at the dare, and Max's face filled with color. But she said in defiance, “Fine! But if they don't answer, you've wasted your dare.” She got up and walked to the phone on the nearby table and said, “What's the number, stalker?”

“You two still don't know each others' phone number?” Liz asked with faux outrage, and the other girls laughed. Max ignored them and made the call. The room went silent to hear what they could on the other end of the line, which rung five times before a woman's voice answered: “Sinclair residence, who's calling?”

The color drained from Max's face, and Alex and a few others fell back, rolling on the floor in silent mirth. Max's voice went the most tame and meek that Jane had ever heard, as she asked Mrs. Sinclair if it was alright for her and Lucas to go to the movies next Saturday. Though Jane could not hear what was being said on the other line, she felt that the conversation was lasting much too long.

After a full minute, Max finally ended the phone call and put down the receiver. Immediately, the silent joy at her suffering erupted into laughs from all, including Lucas. Max socked him in the arm, which shut him up, but everyone else continued. Jane could not help herself, but she covered her mouth and looked away from Max. . .till she saw the bottle come to a stop on her.

“So, Jane,” Max said, the confidence returning to her face. “Truth-or-Dare?”

She gave a sidelong glance at Jennifer and answered, “Truth.”

“Ok, then,” Max looked a little disappointed and miffed at her choice. “Was that your first kiss at Homecoming?” Jane felt all the eyes in the room shift to her. Her hands had been only inches from Mike's; but she immediately shifted, sat straighter, and put her hands in her lap. When she failed to answer right away, Max added, “When you and Mike kissed, I mean. Was that your first?”

“No,” Jane spit out to keep her from bringing it up again. She could feel the red in her cheeks, hear the girls by Jennifer giggle a bit, and see Dustin and Lucas's looks of surprise; but she did not dare to look over at Mike's reaction. She reached out and spun the bottle, which came to rest on the girl to Jennifer's left.

“This is Mary, Jane,” Jennifer quickly introduced them.

“And I pick 'Dare',” the girl answered.

Jane thought for a while, then said, “Call the person you like most—tell them you're thinking about them.”

“Aaww,” Jennifer, Liz, and Allison all coo'd. “Jane, that's so sweet,” Allison added. “Go on, Mary.”

“Ok, then,” Mary answered meekly. “I know the number,” she added with a devilish grin at Max, as she passed by. The group watched as Mary dialed and waited for the answer, twisting the line around her finger. “Hi, Mrs. Keen. Is John home? Can I talk to him? No, it will be quick. . .Hi, John. Yeah. . .no reason, I was just thinking of you. Ok. . .Yeah. Bye, then.” Mary hung up the phone and quickly returned to her seat to giggle with the other girls.

She spun the bottle, and it landed on Jennifer, who also chose 'Dare'. Mary told her to give a kiss to her favorite person in the room. “Easy, and you didn't say where,” Jennifer leaned over into the circle toward Will and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Like you all didn't know,” she said without a hint of embarrassment, and gave the bottle spin. It landed on Mike. When Jane finally looked over at him, he was neither happy, nor flustered—until Jennifer said, “Truth-or-Dare, Wheeler? And don't be boring.”

“Fine then,” Mike said with Max-like defiance. “Dare. Do your worst.”

“Remember you said that,” Jennifer grinned. “I dare you to take Jane into there,” she pointed to the closet on the other side of the basement, “for Seven-Minutes-In-Heaven.”

The room went quiet again, as Mike's face twisted up. “That's not fair,” he argued. “That's two for one. I can't force Jane to—to—for a dare.”

“She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to,” Jennifer shot back. “And neither do you. You're a gentleman, Mike. I'm not worried. And if Jane won't go with you, then I guess you'll be in a closet for seven-minutes by yourself.” The other girls laughed at that, and Mike looked like he was going to argue more, but no words were coming out.

“We just have to stay?” Jane asked, confused.

“Yep!” Jennifer answered, as the other girls continue to giggle. “Just a boy and a girl alone for seven-minutes. Nothing else, just some privacy. We'll keep playing, and even turn the music up.”

_'Alone,' _Jane thought to herself, and understood. “Ok,” she agreed, got to her feet, and looked at Mike.

“It's settled,” Jennifer clapped her hands together, as the boys and Max looked from one to the other with mouths agape. “No choice now, Mike.” She forced him to his feet with little resistance and went to open the closet, turning the radio volume up as she went. “It's seven-thirty-eight now,” she announced to the basement at large, as Jane followed Mike inside. “See you soon,” Jennifer said, closing the door behind them. “Let's keep going, then. I'll spin,” they could hear her muffled voice say, as her footsteps retreated.

The closet was empty, but for some boxes stacked against one wall and a small number of coats pushed to one side. Jane and him fit easily inside with plenty of space, but she still felt herself wringing her hands together and looking down at Mike's shoes. She knew what she wanted to happen, but now that the moment was here, she wondered if Mike really considered this “alone”, like she did. Or worse, if he even wanted to be like that with her anymore.

_'Don't be silly,' _she told herself. _'He was holding your hand all night when you were with Holly and the girls. He's always thinking of you, and listening to you, and waiting for you.' _

“Sorry, Jane,” she heard Mike say. She looked up to see him looking away. “That you were dragged into this. We don't have to—I mean if you don't want to. We can just wait.”

_'He's always. . .waiting for you.'_ She put out her hands to touch the sides of his face and took a small step closer. She met his eyes and held him there, trying to lose herself—to feel how she had in his basement a week ago, or when they danced. _'Truly alone.'_

“Mike,” her mouth felt dry. “We're alone.”

“Yeah.” He knew it was not a question, but Mike felt the need to fill the silence.

“And,” she moved her hands behind his neck, pushing one softly through his black curls. “You can ask me anything.”

“Yeah.” His hands left his side to grab Jane's waist.

“So ask,” she commanded.

Mike gulped and moved one hand from her side to her back. “Can I kiss you?” It seemed that the words had barely sounded from his mouth, when he felt Jane close the distance. He tried to put all of himself into the feeling on his lips. He kissed her over and over without pause, as he could feel her move closer in his arms. Both her hands were moving through his hair now, as if to keep him from moving away. They breathed into each other and pressed their lips together, till Mike felt like he would burst. He slid forward and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

“Yes,” he felt the words breathed into his ears. She kissed his cheek and placed part of his ear between her lips, causing him to shudder. “Kiss me,” she breathed again. He pulled back her turtleneck collar, then pressed his lips to her soft skin. His other hand moved under her shirt to feel the small of her back. She jerked against him, but did not protest. He kissed her again and opened his mouth to lick and nibble at her skin.

Jane let out an involuntary squeak of pleasure, as she felt Mike pull back in surprise. “I'm sorry,” she heard him say. They were face-to-face now, and Jane could see that Mike's face was as red as she felt, but his hand was still creeping up her back.

“It's ok,” she answered, hoping to encourage him. Her fingernails gently massaged the back of his head, as her other hand adjusted her shirt to make it easier for Mike to run his fingers up and down her spine.

“Does that feel good?” Jane nodded in response, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. . .then down, mimicking his earlier movements. Mike traced his fingers up and down her back, as she playfully nibbled at his neck.

She could feel Mike stifling small moans. Jane smiled to herself and teased, “Does that feel good?” He nodded and lifted her chin with his free hand to kiss her on the lips. Jane could feel their teeth hit together for a second, and their lips struggle to find a comfortable placement. She relished every misstep till they began to make-out in earnest, following Mike's lead and feeling her mouth open to his tongue. It was slow and sweet, and Jane could tell that Mike was trying not to startle her again. She leaned in as Mike pulled away and forced her tongue past his lips. She could taste the sweetness from the chocolate he had earlier, and bit his lower lip in pleasure, as Mike's hand found a weak spot in her back.

_B-b-b-beep! B-b-b-beep! B-b-b-beep!_ Mike's watch alarm went off, and the two broke apart in surprise. Mike pushed back his hair, and stopped the alarm. Jane straightened her shirt, and looked down in sudden embarrassment. In a second, the door was pulled open with sudden force. The couple looked over and saw Jennifer standing with her right hand on the doorknob and her eyes wide. The rest of the party peaked in from behind her in comical fashion, and Jane could not help but give a hard laugh of relief.

“Boring!” Jennifer shouted out in obvious disappointment, stepping aside to let the couple out.

“Agreed,” Dustin said, giving the two an incredulous look.

“We gotta go,” Mike ignored them and turned to Jane. She nodded and grabbed his hand, allowing herself to be led past their spectators toward the stairs and out of the party.

“Boring!” Jennifer yelled after them, but Jane turned to see a smile on her face.

“Thank you,” Jane called back at her, waving goodbye to Max and the boys. “...for inviting us!”

“Yeah, thanks!” Mike echoed as they reached the top of the basement stairs, made their way through the hallway, then out the front door. “Bye, Mrs. Hayes!”

“Thank you,” Jane added. “Are we gonna make it, Mike? I can pedal.”

“No,” Mike answered. “It's ok. I got it. Get on.” Jane nodded and wrapped her arms around Mike once more. They did not speak for the whole ride, and the seven minutes in the closet already seemed to Jane like a distant dream. As a rush of wind stung her eyes, she licked her lips in hopes of tasting the chocolate from the party. . .Mike's lips against hers. . .the sweat on his neck.

“We made it,” Mike said finally, as he rode up his parent's driveway and checked his watch. “Two-minutes till eight, and I don't see the chief. Jane?” Mike felt her rush by him and head inside.

“One minute, my backpack,” she explained. As she came back out, Mike saw she had put back on Nancy's old, black jacket, and she was holding his black t-shirt from her vampire costume. “Mike, can I keep this?”

“Sure,” he answered. She had that look again, and Mike lost himself for a moment. Even in the dark driveway, they seemed to shine like no brown eyes that he had ever seen. A car turned the corner into the cul-de-sac, and the two teens could see Hopper's familiar Chevy Blazer pulling up toward the house.

The car made a sharp turn at the front of the driveway, so Hopper could look out his window and call, “Time to go, Jane.” Mike looked back toward Jane, who had already closed the difference between them to throw her arms around him in a tight embrace. Mike squeezed back, but could not help but look over at Hopper as Jane gave no sign of letting him go. “Kid, thanks for taking care of her. . .and getting her back on time,” Hopper half-shouted from the car. “C'mon, Jane.”

She gave a final squeeze and breathed in deep, before letting go and taking a step back. “Bye, Mike.”

“Bye. I'll—uh, see you Monday.” She nodded and turned to walk toward the car. He waved good-bye as Jane gave him a smile, and the car started away down the road. Feeling immensely satisfied with the evening and more tired than he could remember, Mike left his bike on the lawn, made his way to his bed, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :D Weekly Updates till we done here, kiddos! Leave Kudos and Comments. Love you you all <3


	6. You are My Sunshine

Jane found it hard to listen to Hopper's questions on the drive home, which he did not seem pleased with. “I'm tired, sorry,” she said, as they got home. Hopper eased off and told her to turn in for the night. Jane washed her face, took off her clothes, grabbed Mike's old shirt out of her backpack, and slipped it on. She breathed the fabric in deeply, imagining a younger Mike wearing it to bed.

_'I wanted him to kiss me. . .I thought he might, one more time.' _Jane was replaying the night through her head, certain that the closet had happened—really, really happened. Mike's hand on her back, his skin on her lips, and his tongue in her mouth. _'It was rough. . .and nice.'_ Her fingers touched the parts of her body Mike had kissed: on her shoulders, neck, cheeks, and lips. They slowly moved down her chest, under Mike's shirt to rest on her stomach. _'If Hopper had not come so soon, I bet he would have kissed me. I bet if we were still in that closet. . .or in his room.'_ Jane had only seen Mike's room once: years ago, when he had stayed home from school to keep her safe. _'I wonder what's changed.'_ She remembered blues, shelves filled with toys and models, and posters. She took deep breathes to calm down and opened her eyes.

“Mike,” she whispered to the empty room. “Mike, I miss you. I'm sorry, please don't hate me. I promise to tell you. . .soon.” So many feelings and thoughts swirled through her head, and Jane struggled to stay still or keep her eyes closed. She tossed and turned as waves of sadness, surprise, guilt, and joy came over her. She tried to focus on Mike—his kindness and attention—on how he felt and smelled. It was so confusing and new, these feelings, but she knew what she wanted at this moment.

_'It's helped me sleep before,'_ she smiled to herself, allowing one of her hands to slide under her panties and feel between her legs. It was difficult at first to re-capture the mood of earlier that night, but as she moved her fingers back and forth, she imagined herself lying on Mike's bed with his hand in her hair. Her body grew hot, as she writhed in place and took hurried breathes. She could hear Mike's voice in her ear, _'I want you. I want all of you.'_ Her fingers moved in quick circles, and she spread her legs to give her other hand room to stroke the soft, wet skin between her legs.

“It's ok,” she whispered to the daydream, pressing into herself with one finger and moving faster with her other hand. “Mike, I want to feel you inside.” She pressed on her insides gently in every direction, finding what felt best, then pushing deeper and adding another finger. _'You feel amazing. . .It feels so good.'_ Jane rocked her hips slightly, mimicking the intimate act she could only imagine, and in a few moments all the tension in her body released at once. She pulled her fingers out slowly, but continued a steady motion over her clit till the spasms that ran up and down her spine waned in intensity.

Jane uncurled, got out of bed, and washed up. With the smile on her face, she lay back down, bundled up, and continued her imaginations: this time, she and Mike were at the movies. . .or maybe the arcade. . .or in a quiet spot in the woods on a bright, warm day.

* * *

On Monday, Mike tried his hardest to act normal around Jane, though he seemed to be much more aware of her body than before: the way her hair bounced slightly on her shoulders with every step; or the smile that she could not help but give him when their eyes met; and even the smell of sweat and lavender he caught when they sat next to each other during class or lunch. Worse than all that were the looks from the kids in his grade, which Mike seemed to notice more and more as the day went on.

“Hey, Will,” Mike decided to bring it up on their way to A/V club. “You don't think Jennifer said anything about. . .y'know, Friday?”

Will paused in thought, then answered, “I can't be sure.”

“Dude, seriously?” Mike had in truth already made up his mind that she must have.

“It was probably one of her friends,” Will argued. “Mary or I don't know, but I noticed it at lunch too. When Jane walked to the table and sat next to you, the girl's over at Jennifer's table all giggled or whatever. But I saw Alex staring too, and half the guys on the baseball team.”

Mike had noticed Alex glancing at them during English. “You don't think,” Mike asked, as he pulled Will aside outside the club room. “Does Alex have a thing for Jane?”

There was a long silence, as the two boys resolutely avoided the other's gaze. Will knew that Mike would never ask such a direct question to the rest of the party, and that thought filled him with a mixture of resolution, happiness, and unease.

“Ow,” Mike grabbed at his arm where Will had punched him.

“So what if he does?” Will said with a confidence Mike wished he had right now. He reached out and put his hand on Mike's shoulder, looking him right in the eyes. “You two are together, so don't worry about it.”

Mike nodded and gulped, then looked down again. “Yeah, I guess. I haven't actually asked her out though. . .or to be my girlfriend or anything.”

“What?” Will asked incredulously. But before anymore could be said, they heard the rest of the A/V club coming down the hallway. Once the class started, Will paired off with Mike to work on repairing an old transistor radio, mostly to nag him about how little his relationship with Jane had progressed. Mike took the back-handed compliments about him being “too pure for this world”, and “such an innocent boy”, with some small measure of grace—thankful for the most part that Lucas and Dustin were just out of earshot.

Mike supposed it was too much to ask that the other two boys would not notice he and Will's whispering throughout class. Luckily, Lucas had plans to master a kick-flip on Max's skateboard, and Will spared Mike any further interrogation by convincing Dustin that skateboarding was more interesting than Mike's problems.

“Mike, you headed home then?” Dustin asked.

Mike shook his head, “Jane's staying for a few hours after school starting today, so we're doing homework together in the library.”

“Right,” Dustin smiled, with a knowing wink. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Mikey-boy.”

Mike ignored him and headed off toward the library, as the rest of the party split. His thoughts slowly drifted away from the looks and whispers that had followed him all day, and toward Jane, who he could see was waiting for him at the end of the hall. She was leaning against the wall by the entrance to the library, staring down at nothing in particular. Mike took a moment to appreciate the vision before she noticed him. Jane had the same flower pin in her hair that she had been wearing since Homecoming, as well as bright yellow pants that Mike had not seen before, and a pastel purple top of some thick, fuzzy fabric that hung loose on her. Her black boots were an odd finish to her outfit, but there was always something like that with Jane: a choice utterly out of place, yet worn with a carefree grace that was completely. . .well, completely her.

“Hi, Mike,” Jane said, finally looking up and noticing the goofy smile on his face. “What?” She asked with a bit of embarrassment, pushing her hair back behind her ears. She could see Mike's eyes travel over her body before he seemed to come back to himself and walk toward her.

“Nothing,” Mike said. “You ready to head in?” She nodded, and the pair found a free desk in the library to begin their homework.

The next hour or so passed in relative silence, broken only by questions about Math or English or some other assignment. Jane was putting up a good show of staying focused, but even she had noticed the stares and whispers during lunch, as she took a seat by Mike at the party's usual table. It made her think of Friday; it kept her from holding his hand under the table, as she had done almost every day these past few weeks; and she could hardly pay attention in her afternoon classes. But Mike made no mention of it, then or now, so she did not bring it up. At least they were practically alone in the library today, so Jane did not hesitate to sit as close as possible to him. Leaning over to look at his work, or to whisper a question in his ear. She could smell the sweat mingled with the fresh, clean smell of his clothes, and the vague floral scent of his hair.

_'He holds his breathe whenever I lean close,'_ she smiled at the realization. _'He's nervous around me. . .in a good way, I think. Like he's thinking about Friday, about being alone.'_ That was it for homework: Jane could not concentrate now that those thoughts were swarming through her head. She started to pack up at four-forty-five, and Mike followed suit.

“Can you help me find something before we go?” Jane asked quietly with a plan in mind. The place was empty, except for the librarian at the check-out desk. Mike nodded, and she led him between the bookshelves on the far-side of the library.

When she turned around to face him, Jane could see in Mike's eyes that he had not really been fooled. His hands found a place on her hips, as she stepped toward him and stood on her toes. His lips found hers easily, and Jane smiled into Mike's kiss as she felt the eagerness in his embrace. She put one of her hands through his hair and kept him from pulling away, as her tongue pushed passed his lips. Jane heard him give a small moan and tighten his grip on her hips. She gave in and pushed her pelvis against his, massaging the back of Mike's head with her fingers.

“Ten minutes till we close,” the librarian called from her desk. The two slowly broke apart, but Jane hugged Mike tight for almost a minute before stepping back.

“That was,” Mike began, searching for the right word. “. . .unexpected, and really nice.” He cringed at his own lack of imagination, but Jane brought her hand to her mouth and gave a silent laugh.

“I liked it too,” she answered. “I should run. . .Jim.”

“Yeah,” Mike shook himself back to the present and took her hand. “Let's go.”

They made their way out the library toward the parking lot, holding hands all the while. “I'm coming over Saturday with everyone?”

“Yeah,” Mike reassured her. “We can start on the History project, if you want.”

“Yes, please. I can't stay for dinner this time,” Jane mentioned. Mike frowned a bit, and she thought that he understood her meaning. “If. . .if the party comes after lunch, maybe I come sooner.”

“Yeah,” Mike immediately grabbed on to the suggestion. “I'll ask the chief—tell him I want to make you my famous mac and cheese.”

Jane smiled, but asked doubtfully, “Famous?”

Mike shrugged, looked at her, and smiled wide. “It's the only thing I know how to make, so yeah.”

* * *

Saturday came quick enough, unfortunately without any opportunity for Jane to get Mike alone. The rest of the party joined them in the library after school for the rest of the week, much to the dismay of the librarian who had given up trying to keep their noise down to a dull roar.

On the other hand, Jim had agreed to drop her off at eleven-thirty for lunch at Mike's. She had a light breakfast and spent the morning picking out an outfit. She needed something that was not obviously appealing, but would suit her more than the frumpy sweaters she wore to keep warm in school, or the jeans that were more ill-fitting everyday, as she seemed to gain a few inches and pounds. It did not help that she woke up with cramps and a bloated feeling in her stomach. She slipped on a pad under an older pair of underwear, laid out a few outfits, and tried on a couple. Finally, Jane settled on a black, sleeveless top that was thick enough for the late autumn weather, but still showed off her arms—slim and toned and among her best features, Joyce had commented when she helped her pick the shirt out—which she tucked into a canary yellow, pleated skirt that fell just below her knees. A chill blew through the room as she was finishing her outfit, so she slipped on thick, black, knee-high socks for warmth.

It was a bit flashy, Jane thought, so she threw on Nancy's old, black, denim jacket and buttoned it up. The car ride over to Mike's felt like forever, but Jim did not seem interested in making his usual teasing comments about her spending time with Mike; or about the simple, yet obvious make-up she applied for this 'study session'. The chief seemed content to tap along to the songs on the radio, and say a simple goodbye when they pulled up to the drive-way.

“I trust you, kid,” Jim said with a squeeze to her shoulder. “Have fun, and get some work done.” They waved goodbye, and Jane went to ring the doorbell.

“Hi, sweetie,” Karen Wheeler greeted her. “Mike's in the kitchen, setting up your little lunch. And don't worry, I'm taking Holly for a treat in town, so it'll be just you two” She gave a wink, as Jane came in, took off her shoes, and put her bag down. “Of course, Ted is in the den if you two need anything. Don't mind him though,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “He prefers to spend his days off by himself, the sourpuss. Still, can't leave you two without an adult. C'mon, Holly-bear! And Mike, Jane's here!”

“Hi, Jane,” Mike said, as he rounded the corner a few moments later. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Holly,” he added, as the two passed him by on their way out the door.

Jane said a quick goodbye as well, took a moment to take off the denim jacket and hang it on the coat rack, and turned to face Mike. “Hi,” she answered.

Mike was wearing a simple black shirt with the words “Star Wars” in bold, yellow letters, and light blue, denim pants that looked new. She could see how the jeans hung to his hips, how his shirt stretched over broad shoulders, and how his eyes took in her outfit before he stepped forward to embrace her. They held each other for a minute, till Jane felt Mike let go and step away. As he did, his fingers ran down her arms like droplets of water in the shower. She felt the goosebumps form on her skin and smiled when Mike met her eyes.

She looked down at her clothes, straightened her skirt, and asked, “Like my outfit?”

“Yeah,” he answered at once. “You look cute—um, really. . .very pretty.” Mike blushed, and Jane melted. She kissed him on both cheeks and tried to control her glee.

Mike broke the silence. “Everything's ready. I hope you like it.”

“I'll love it,” Jane said in a flash, as she let Mike take her hand and lead them to the kitchen table. Two plates, forks, knives, and glasses were set on the table, along with a long glass cooking tray with Mike's mac 'n' cheese. “Oh,” Jane said in surprise, as she looked at the dish: broccoli was mixed in with the pasta, along with another green, and the top layer looked like a kind of seasoned crust.

“I told you, it's my famous dish.” Mike shoved her lightly with his shoulder. “C'mon, it's had time to cool already. I'll serve. Want water? Or soda?”

It was cheesy, fatty, melt in your mouth goodness. The bread crumbs and vegetables that came with every few bites gave the meal a pleasant variety of texture. All and all, it was one of the best meals Jane had ever had, and she was thoroughly impressed with this side of Mike. When they both had their fill, she gathered up the leftovers and helped him with the dishes.

After all of it was done, the two stood in the kitchen in silence, a few feet apart and not quite meeting the other's gaze. After a minute, they both tried to speak at once. “You first,” Mike said quickly.

Jane smiled and took a deep breathe. “Can I see your room?”

Mike blinked in bemusement, gulped audibly, then answered, “Yeah. Yeah, uh, this way.” Jane followed him up the stairs slowly, taking in every detail and letting half-forgotten memories wash over her. They had changed the wallpaper, she thought with a bit of uncertainty, but the pictures on the walls were the same. Some old black and whites filled with people she would probably never meet: a man with Mike's nose and slightly squished face; a woman with Karen and Nancy's high arch and curls; and others that filled her with a hollowness that she tried to shake, as Mike opened the door.

Jane closed her eyes to cement the last memory of the room in her mind, stepped over the threshold, and opened them. She remembered blues, shelves, posters, toys, a desk, a bed, and a closet that she hid in briefly years ago. The memory almost immediately left her, as the new reality took its place. The walls were the same this time, she thought, but the posters were different, along with the models and collectibles on the shelves. The desk was new too, and the bed covers.

“Sorry,” Mike said, as he rushed passed her to pick up some clothing on the floor and collect some trash and dishes scattered about his room. “I was cooking this morning, so you know. . .didn't clean or anything—in here, at least. The basement is,” he finished awkwardly.

Jane nodded to show she was listening, but took a few more moments to take in the room. Enough of it was familiar to put her at ease, and the things that were different were not off-putting. _'It's only proof that life went on. . .that Mike moved forward, just like me.' _

“These are science fair awards from middle school and junior high,” Mike explained, when he saw that Jane had stopped to look at them. “1st place, most of them,” Mike laughed. “It's been Will, Dustin, Lucas, and I the whole time. But see this one here? Max won that with us in eighth grade: it was her idea to do a rocket, and she built it, for the most part. Dustin and Will handled the hard, technical parts—Lucas and I supervised. Sorry, I'm rambling.”

Jane had turned to face him with a sad smile, and Mike's heart broke a bit, but he was not sure why. “I think,” she said, but stopped to find the words. “I think it's great to have friends, like you have friends.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, mostly to fill the silence. “I mean,” he took a step closer, and moved to take her hand. “They're your friends too, now. And,” he slipped his fingers between Jane's and pulled her a bit closer. “I want you to be around, for a long time. . .with me.” Mike moved to kiss her, but she turned to the side.

“I'm really full,” Jane said in a quiet voice with a gentle tone. The meal was filling and did not help the gross, bloated feeling she carried through the morning. “So not right now. Is that ok?”

“Of course,” Mike said, nearly tripping over his words. “That's totally fine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—“

Jane moved her hand up and placed two fingers on his lips. She moved them slowly across his face, brushing his cheek and settling her fingers in his hair. “Touch me,” she said with quiet determination, moving Mike's head to look him straight in the eyes. “Touch me, instead.”

Without a word, Mike brought his hands up and ran his fingers along her arms like before—up and down this time, which sent delightful shivers up Jane's spine. One of his hands found her neck, and she felt her throat tighten for a moment as Mike explored every inch from front to back. The look in his eyes was hungry, and she was frightened for half a moment. But then that same hand moved into her hair, followed by the other. Jane fell into Mike's chest in silent bliss, and she felt his fingers work their way through her curls and massage her scalp. She yelped the few times Mike pulled on a knot in her hair, and they both laughed softly as he gave up for the time being and moved to feel her back and hips and thighs.

“It's ok,” Jane breathed heavily, noticing the hesitancy in Mike's touch when he ran out of places to go. She turned away and walked toward his bed slowly, making sure that he was following. Jane climbed on, got on her knees, and turned to face him. She saw the resolve in Mike's eye flash, then watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and threw his legs up. Jane laid down next to him and wordlessly brought his hand to rest on the bare skin just below her skirt.

He seemed to take the hint from there and slowly began moving his hand down. She inched closer to him and bent her knee slightly, so he could reach all the way down the back of her calf. Jane felt Mike's fingers brush her ankles and make there way back up her leg till they pushed under her skirt and gripped her thigh. She moved even closer into him and laid on her back, spreading her legs slightly as Mike moved to feel her inner thigh, then the other. . .

_'I wouldn't stop him,' _Jane thought, forgetting all of her bodily discomfort for a few moments._ 'Even if I could. His hands are the only thing I can feel. Nothing else matters. Just a little farther, it's ok.'_

“Jane,” Mike said, and she opened her eyes. His fingers continued to move across her thighs, tracing the place where the soft fabric of her underwear clung to the side of her hips—but not pushing, or pulling, or forcing.

“Uh-huh,” she managed to say after feeling Mike's breathe on her cheek. She could feel her deep, long breathes slowly subside, as Mike waited for her to really listen. She rolled onto her side again, pressing her body into Mike's and placing her cheek on his. She could feel his heartbeat, thumping furiously. . .or was it hers? And his hand still feeling up and down, and back and forth.

_'Can you feel me, Mike? Can you feel how every part of me wants you?' _

“I think about you,” Mike started, moving his hand out from under her skirt and placing it on her back. “All the time, and I—I want to go out with you. Spend time together, and what I mean is,” Mike took a breathe to steady himself. “I just wanted to ask if you'd be my girlfriend.” Jane put her arm around Mike and held herself as close as could be for long minutes. “Jane?” Mike's voice was in her ear again, and she felt the wetness on their cheeks from the tears that fell unbidden.

She propped herself up. Mike moved as well, till they were both sitting on the edge of the bed. Jane wiped her eyes and smiled, putting her head on Mike's shoulder. “I want to, Mike.” There was silence for awhile. Mike grabbed her hand and intertwined his fingers, and Jane moved her thumb across the back of his hand.

“I'll talk to the Chief,” Mike said nervously. “I'll make him understand, somehow. And we can go to the mall together, and the movies, or whatev—“

Jane brought her other hand to his face again, but could not bring herself to look up. “Time, Mike. I need some time.”

_'I need to tell you. I can't say “yes”, and keep this from you. But I don't want this to change again. I like this so, so much.'_

“Yeah,” he responded, the sadness poorly concealed.

“Mike,” Jane could hear the plea in her own voice. “I like you. I think about you too. I—I—I want. . .”

“Hey,” Mike lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. “I understand. Jane, it's okay. I understand.”

“Ok,” she kissed him sweetly. “Promise?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, kissing her again—quick and soft this time.

_'Is he lying?'_ Jane searched his eyes, but only saw the hurt—his and her own—clouding everything.

“Let's,” she started, grabbing his shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep them connected. “I'll talk to the chief. I'll do it.” Jane could hear her voice filling with panic. “So we can go on a date, just us—just like this, Mike?”

_'He can't look at me. Every word I say that isn't “yes”, is like a dagger.' _Her eyes were filling with tears again. She swallowed hard, trying not to cry. . .but it was no use.

“No, I can wait,” his voice was distant and defeated. Mike took a steadying breathe and looked back toward her. He could not say anything to comfort her, but he forced himself to lift his fingers and wipe away her tears. Jane took heart at his soft touch, leaning into his palm and kissing his wrist half a dozen times. She could feel him bring her into a hug, so she kissed his neck and cheeks as well. “I have to wait cause you're the only one for me, Jane. I promise.”

She nodded and mustered up the courage to ask, “Can we stay, stay here for a while?” As an answer, Mike laid them down again. As he reached over to play with her hair, Jane saw him smile. She wanted to touch and kiss him, but she could not shake the guilt of rejecting him just moments before.

_'I hurt him,'_ she could not help but think. _'He's still gentle and kind, but I know it hurt. We're both hurting, and it's my fault.'_

Tears threatened again at the corner of her eyes, as Mike seemed to read her mind and say, “You make me feel so happy.” How could she let him see her sad after hearing that? So she pulled him in, and shoved her head into his chest.

“I'm happy,” she answered back. “With you, I'm so happy. Everyday. . .like a dream.”

“Better than a dream,” Mike continued. “I feel really alive with you.” Jane nodded and wiped her cheeks on his shirt.

However long later, Jane could not say, they heard the doorbell ring. Mike went to answer, and Jane grabbed her bag and headed into the basement. She used the bathroom down there to make sure her make-up had not smeared. Her eyes were a bit red, but it did not look like she had been crying—at least, she hoped. When she came out, Max and Dustin were already set up at the television, Lucas was yelling about snacks from the top of the stairs, and Mike had sat down at the table with a few books.

“Hi, everyone,” she said to the room at large. They called back one after the other, but did not pay any extra mind when she made her way to sit next to Mike at the table.

“Getting right to it?” Lucas teased them, taking the stairs two at a time, then settling next to Max on the couch.

“Yeah,” Mike answered. “I haven't even touched that history project, man. Do you g—”

“Wasn't talking about homework,” Lucas cut-in, and Mike watched the eyes in the room flit to him and Jane at the table, then they give out a few quick chuckles and resumed what they were doing.

Mike could not look over at Jane, but he felt himself blush. “Whatever,” Mike brushed him off. “Where's Will, anyway? I thought you were all heading over together.”

“Daddy-day date,” Dustin called over in a matter-of-fact tone. “Last minute, but Will didn't seem to mind. Bob's taking him to the zoo in Kerley County.”

“Shit,” Mike said back. “I was hoping for some ideas. What do you think?”

Jane snapped into the conversation, but did not have a ready answer. Mike did not seem to mind, as he thumbed through the multi-paged table of contents in the history textbook. It was one of the best things about him, Jane thought. _'He knows when I'm thinking, and knows that I'm listening. He knows how I'm feeling and what I need, but can't ask.' _

Mike looked up and gave her a shy smile, and she remembered her notebook. “I think I wrote something,” Jane flipped from page to page. “Interesting. . .the other day. This,” she handed the notebook over to Mike. They spent the next two hours in back and forth conversation about their project, deciding to tackle the same subject from two different perspectives. Jane had never talked or laughed or smiled so easily. Slowly but surely, the rest of the party joined them in other homework. In no time at all, or so it seemed to Jane, Karen called from the first floor to let her know that the Chief was here.

“I'll walk you up,” Mike said, jumping to his feet. Dustin whistled smoothly, and Lucas made another jab, “Chivalry is alive in Michael Wheeler, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Bye,” Jane said quickly. Mike had slipped next to her on the stairs and spoke softly enough so that only she could hear. “I think you left something in my room.” Jane smiled and nodded. They passed through the door, she thanked Mrs. Wheeler for having her, and called out the front door: “Be right there!”

Jane was up the stairs and through Mike's door, feeling it close behind her. “I just wanted to kiss you again,” he said with no shame, and she loved him for it. “Is that ok?”

Jane did not bother to answer. Her hormones had swung hard in the opposite direction over the course of the day, so she pushed Mike against the door and got on her toes. His mouth opened for her embrace, and she kissed him as sweetly and passionately as she could. She could feel Mike's tongue wrap around hers, as his hand slipped under her knee and brought her even closer. His hand moved all the way up her skirt and squeezed, and Jane shuttered with delight and moaned quietly. She tried to put a lot of feelings into the short minute that their lips and tongues and bodies melted together; and she hoped that they got through—the same way she could feel the things Mike wanted to say through his kisses.

_'Don't worry, he's saying. I'm here for you. I want you. I even. . .' _

“I—I,” Jane stuttered. Her lips came apart to speak, but Mike silenced her with another passionate kiss. She gave in for a few more moments, living in the sweet feeling that existed in the moments between each kiss: the feeling of her greedy lips sticking to his, and their mingled breathe that panted out fresh desire. “I gotta go, Mike,” she managed to pull away and say.

He seemed to come to himself quick enough, straightening out his shirt and brushing his hair with his fingers, as she did the same. Mike opened the door and said a bit too loudly, “Yeah, I'm glad we found it.” Downstairs, he said goodbye at the door and gave her hand a squeeze, then she was off.

“Make any progress?” Jim asked, when they had reached the end of Maple Street to turn onto the main highway. “On homework,” he added, when Jane did not answer.

“Oh, yes.” Jane pressed the side of her head against the window, as doubts—endless and unstoppable—seem to creep into her head.

“Did you want to do anything for your birthday, this Tuesday?” Jim's voice came to her muffled, like he was speaking from the other end of an old radio.

“No,” she answered simply. “Anything is fine.”

“Well,” Jim said with mounting uncertainty, not wanting to push the issue. “I'll make us breakfast for dinner. How's that sound, huh? My special triple-decker, Eggo Extravaganza.”

Jane nodded and smiled. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Thanks, dad.”

Jim Hopper smiled and turned up the radio.

* * *

For the next week, Mike could not manage to shake the awkwardness and sadness he felt around Jane. The truth was confessing to her had taken every ounce of courage in his body, and when she said that she needed time. . .

_'I can wait,' _he had thought then. _'I can wait weeks, or months, or years. If I can stop her tears, if I can make her smile here and now. . .then none of it matters.'_

When Jane was sad or hurt—even when she was only shy or hesitant—something inside Mike clicked, and he could push everything inside him aside to help her. That is what had happened on that Saturday, and at the time, he had meant every word he said. But although Mike could not admit it to himself, his pride had been wounded when Jane said that she needed time. When everyone had left that night, and Mike was left alone with his thoughts, he felt betrayed.

_'She kissed me. _She _kissed me, and pushed against me, and told me to touch her. She said she felt the same way—said she wanted to be my girlfriend—but apparently not enough. Apparently, none of that stuff mattered to her, like it does to me. Who knows how many times she's done those kind of things before? I wasn't even her first kiss. . .she said so herself at Jennifer's party. She doesn't need me—she doesn't want me. She wants time. Time for what?' _

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit, Mike could not help but tell himself. He remembered this last week's lesson in Health about how the adolescent brain is not fully developed, and how hormones played a big part in the sudden, unexpected shifts in temperament—“for which the teenage population is infamous”, in his teacher's own words.

_'_ _You're a living, breathing example, mouth-breather.' _

So when Monday came, and he saw Jane walking into homeroom with a smile just for him, Mike tried to push those thoughts aside and give her a smile back. He tried. And when she moved to hold his hand at lunch later that day—despite the handful of on-lookers which had lessened, but not yet fully disappeared—he tried. And when they had the library to themselves at the end of school on Tuesday, he tried to act normal.

_'She's acting normal,' _Mike tried to reason with the stubbornness that seemed to stiffen his features, bite at his tongue, and recoil at Jane's slightest touch. But his thoughts turned on him as easily as his body had. _'She's acting like nothing happened. Like I didn't pour my fucking heart out. . .like she didn't ask me to wait on her like a dog.'_

He hated feeling like this. He hated how he was treating Jane, and he hated how she seemed not to notice. In the midst of his worst thoughts, Mike would look over, and she would look back with her same easy smile. . .and those eyes that wished the world away, so it was them and only them.

_'She's so goddamn beautiful, and kind, hardworking and smart, and everything I've ever wanted,' _Mike thought, the sadness building, as his eyes moved blankly across the pages of his textbook. He felt himself about to lose it and cry; but at that moment, anger overtook him. _'And everything you'll never have, you loser. She's just waiting for the right time. . .for the right words to tell you that she doesn't feel the same way.'_

Then another voice in his head drove the nail in the coffin of his self-doubt, hate, and humiliation: _'And what's so wrong with that? Huh? Would it be so awful to be a decent human being. You promised to always be friends.' _

On that thought, Mike had gathered up his things and apologized to Jane, making some excuse about not feeling well. It seemed to Mike that Jane wanted to say something; but after a few seconds of waiting for her to speak, she only nodded her understanding and said, “Then I'll see you tomorrow, Mike. Bye.”

During the rest of the week, Jane finally seemed to give up a bit of the facade. On Wednesday, she did not reach for Mike's hand at lunch. On Thursday, the smile on her face did not reach her eyes. On Friday, Jane was outright avoiding him: she sat behind him in homeroom, did not join the rest of the party for lunch, and did not so much as look at Mike in their afternoon classes—her head buried in her notes.

_'What did you expect?' _Mike thought to himself. Dustin seemed to accept Max's quick explanation that Jane had felt sick during P.E., and was laying down in the nurse's office during lunch; but Lucas and Will chewed their food moodily, looking over at Mike pointedly every once and while. _'Let them. I know it's my fault. I know I have to fix this, but I can't change how _this_ feels.' _

It was more out of habit than any conscious thought that Mike found himself heading to the library after school. The rest of the party did not seem interested in getting a jump start on their weekend homework, but Mike figured he could at least find the final reference book he needed for his History project before heading home.

“Mike.” He heard his name before he saw her. Jane was standing by the double doors, leaning against the left-hand wall and seemingly waiting for him. Mike's mouth felt dry and his voice caught in his throat. He could almost feel his hair stand on end and his face go white. Moments passed with no answer till Jane spoke again, reaching into her bag as she did. “Would you take this?”

“What?” Mike tried to snap back into the moment. He saw the folded up piece of notebook paper in Jane's outstretched hand and took it without thinking. She smiled at him, and their eyes met for the first time. “I—I uum, Jane.”

She shook her head. “It's hard to. . .find words sometimes. I understand. Mike,” he knew his own words before she said them. “It's okay. I understand.”

Mike smiled, even though he was still hurt and confused. “I'm sorry,” was all he could think to say.

Jane nodded. “Read it,” she looked down at the note that she had handed him. “I'll see you Monday.” Without waiting for his response, Jane walked passed him and toward the double doors that led out into the parking lot.

Mike's impulse to open the piece of paper was almost immediately extinguished by the dread and imagined embarrassment of what might happen once he knew what it said. _'If it's an answer. . .if I've messed this up for good.' _Mike did not think he could hold it together if that was the case. After a moment, he put the note in his backpack and went to look for that book.

* * *

_Mike_

_ I hurt you, and I'm sorry. So many things have changed for me in the last few years, and coming back to Hawkins has given me ground to stand on for the first time in my life. Everything has gone better than I ever could have hoped for, most of all you. Remember when you asked me why I wanted to be friends? I hope you've seen in yourself the answer that you've given me the last two months. You're the best person I've ever met, and you're so good to me. You're good with me, and good for me too. I'm better with you, and happier. And I feel normal. I feel amazing. And it's amazing how you know what to say, and when to wait for me to say something. You know how I'm feeling even when I can't explain it. Do you know what I'm feeling now?_

_ I thought you did, even when I felt you pulling away. When your eyes couldn't meet mine, and your body shied away when I reached for you. I still think you know. But I'm not like you Mike, I don't know what you're feeling or what you're thinking. I only know I hurt you, and I hate it. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm writing to tell you that I like you more than anyone, that I'm sorry, and that I still need time. I don't want things to change right now, good or bad. I don't think I could take it, even it means hurting you. I hope you can forgive me because I still want to be with you. And one day I want to be more than friends. I want to be whatever you want us to be, because I could never give enough of myself to you. _

_ I couldn't say all this in person, and I desperately wanted to say it all. I've written this over and over again to get it right. I hope I came close. I hope this letter didn't hurt you more. I just didn't know what else to do, but to be honest with you. If you need space, I understand. I don't know, Mike. I hope you'll tell me. But don't push yourself, I can wait. I'm not going to come over this weekend, and I wanted you to know that it's because I want to give you space and because I don't want to make things worse. _

_ I can't wait to see you Monday, even if I've messed this up. To give you another smile, even if I don't make you smile anymore. I asked you to wait for me, and you should know that I'll be waiting for you. I don't think I could ever stop liking you._

_Thank you for everything,_

_Yours_

* * *

Jane powered through the rest of her Friday, putting on her most convincing smile for Jim when she told him that she would be staying up late to finish her homework.

“Aren't you going over to the Wheelers, again? Not planning to get anything done tomorrow, or what?” Hopper asked with a bit of attitude.

“No,” she answered placidly. “No plans tomorrow. I'm staying in this weekend.”

Hopper stepped into her room to give Jane a long, searching look. “Did you want to talk?”

Jane shook her head and gave him another smile. “I'm ok. It's not something I can explain.”

“Is it about before?” Hop hesitated. “You went to therapy when you were in foster care. We could—I don't know—find someone in Roane County, maybe.”

“Dad,” she said firmly. “It's not that.” Jane took a moment to compose herself and think of the words that the doctor had used to describe it before. “I get anxious, and sometimes really low with thoughts about. . .about before. But it's not that, everything is just. . .It's just a lot, and I want to slow down.”

Jim looked a bit angry and confused, but after a moment his expression softened. “That's good. Hey,” he stepped forward to bring her up into a hug. “Slow is good. Let me know if you need anything. I'm at work for half the day tomorrow, but I always got time for you.”

“Yeah,” Jane nodded, squeezing him tightly. “The radio.”

“The radio, that's right,” he agreed. “Get your work done, and sleep in tomorrow if you need to. Love you, kid. Goodnight.”

“I love you too,” Jane answered. “Goodnight.” Time passed; but she finally managed to finish her homework sometime after two in the morning, before slumping over to her bed and promptly passing out.

It was oppressively bright when she woke up the next day to the sound of Jim's truck pulling out of the driveway. The clock on her desk read eleven-zero-one, and Jane realized with a yawn that she had not showered yesterday. She rolled off her bed and slogged toward the kitchen. Her hands fumbled in the freezer for two waffles. Eventually, Jane popped them in the toaster, then forced herself to strip and climb into the shower. After a few minutes of letting the water spray across her body—having no energy to lather, wash, or clean—she decided to slump down in the tub and let the water fill. Every once and a while, Jane would stretch her toes above the water's surface to push the temperature control a little more to the left, making the water increasingly hotter.

She could remember, when she was staying with her last foster family, how her monthly chance to take a bath was the only thing that offered some relief from the fog that would descend upon her mood from time to time.

_'Hot water. . .like a ray of sun,' _Jane had often thought to herself. _'Burn, burn it all away.'_

She let the water get as hot as she could possibly stand, then stewed in the pain till it became a dull ache that only stirred when she moved too quickly. Eventually, Jane let the water drain, ran the shower head again, and scrubbed herself from bottom to top. Lastly, she turned the nozzle hard in the opposite direction and screamed as the blinding cold water coated her skin.

Stepping out of the tub and grabbing a towel, Jane finally felt well enough to eat. The waffles were cold, but cooked. Jane ate them happily, along with a few spoonfuls of peanut butter and half a bowl of stale cheese-flavored crackers. Program after program cycled passed without leaving much of an impression on Jane's mind, but she was thankful for the peaceful afternoon. . .despite the knots twisting in her insides.

Jane really did not think it had much to do with Mike, though he was never far from her thoughts. _'Eggos, peanut butter, Goldfish. . .I had them all at Mike's. . .years ago. . .and I still go to them for comfort. So much of me is caught up in him.'_ How much more of her was caught up with Papa, though? What he had done to her. . .what she had done. _'No, no. . .you're here now. You're right here.'_

She repeated the phrase back to herself till she could think again. But it was not Mike's fault, no. She had felt like this long before, even before she met him for the first time. But maybe this latest fog had come because of how badly things had gone after last Saturday.

_'Mike is like sunshine,'_ she smiled, then nearly cried. Ridiculously, she remembered the old song. Jim had played it when they were doing their summer cleaning. _'I bet I could find it if I tried.' _Even thinking of the effort was tiring. . .but Jane's train of thought was almost immediately interrupted by a familiar set of beeps coming from the radio.

She composed herself, gracefully fell off the couch, and slowly made her way to the radio. “You there, kid? Over,” Jim's voice sounded out of the speaker, crisp and clear.

“Yes, over,” she answered.

“I got a stray here at the station,” Jim's tone was teasing but light. “Name of Max Mayfield: says you were planning a sleep-over tonight. Over.”

Jane did not know how to answer. “Can I,” she began. “Can Max come over tonight, dad? Over.”

There was a pregnant pause, then Jim said, “Fine with me. Over.”

“Thank you,” Jane had no idea why she was going along with this, but some part of her brain vaguely considered the prospect of fighting against Max's plan—whatever it was—to be more trouble than it was worth. “Can she call? Over.”

“Will do,” Jim answered. “We'll be home with pizza at six. Over and out.”

_'I wonder if this is how she gets her way,' _Jane thought without malice. _'I wish I had that kind of confidence.'_

The phone was ringing a moment later, and Jane moved to answer it.

“Hey, thanks,” Max's sharp voice came immediately from the other end. “I left Mike's and came to the station when it was obvious you weren't gonna show.”

“Why?” Jane said, uncharacteristically without hesitation.

“Nothing happened,” Max's voice sounded a bit panicked. “Nothing really, I just thought you might want company. I—”, now her voice sounded so much like Jane's, in those moments when she was frantically searching for the words. “I mean, we're friends. We're friends too,” Max's voice had regained its familiar confidence. “So we'll talk when I get there, ok?”

“Ok,” Jane said. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, what are friends for?”

Jane heard her hang up, so she did the same. Her anxiety felt more muted, as her mind turned to the room around her. She considered the mess in front of her, in the kitchen, and in her room. Jane figured that she could get things reasonably clean in the next two hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly Updates! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. Sorry this came out a little later than usual :p


	7. Journaling

“One more time,” Max said with a sympathy that was slowly waning. “I'll start, and just stop me if I miss something. Ok?”

Jane nodded, trying to hide her exasperation. _'This might have been a mistake,'_ she could not help but think. _'If she says something to the boys, I'll never forgive myself.'_

“So Mike corners you, asks you to be his—his girlfriend,” Max resisted the urge to roll her eyes, shaking her head in bewilderment all the same. “You say 'no'. He starts acting like a dick—his go-to move, by the way—and so _you_,” she emphasized the word with a point to Jane's chest, “wrote him an apology letter.”

Jane sighed. Max was perhaps the most frustrating person she had ever met. She was beyond stubborn, and her way of putting things was downright offensive. “He didn't corner me,” Jane finally said. “I didn't say 'no'. And—“

“He just ignored you for a week because you two weren't a sure thing,” Max interrupted, calm but firm. “Scratch that,” she barreled on, “Because he couldn't be a good friend without being sure that he would get something for it.”

Jane did not know how to respond, so she said nothing. Max gave her a long, searching look. Finally, she broke the silence. “That might not be fair,” Max admitted.

Jane took a moment, then said, “I pushed him first. I've been pushing. . .us,” Jane moved her hands wildly in front her body to articulate the relationship between herself and Mike. “Pushing us together, since I first saw him again. I want to be together.”

“You said 'again',” Max said—her brain moving a mile a minute. “You lived in Hawkins. Before, I mean,” Max said, as Jane's eyes went wide. “And you knew Mike. You recognized him on your first day,” Max pointed at her again this time in accusation. Jane was putting up her hands, as if in surrender. “You did. Holy shit, Dustin was ri—”

Jane pushed her hands forward, covering Max's mouth and knocking her backwards. Jane was practically on top of her, as the both wrestled silently on her bed. _'Jesus, she's strong for such a little thing,'_ Max finally gave up, licking Jane's hand.

“Aah!” Jane pulled away on instinct, giving Max enough time to twist off the bed and knock both of them onto the floor.

“Ow, Jesus,” Max groaned, holding her elbow in pain.

“You can't say anything,” Jane was already on top of her again. “Promise!”

“What,” Max was so confused. “About what? Why?”

“Promise, Max!” Jane's voice was a whispered scream, as her eyes darted between Max and her bedroom door.

“Ok, I promise,” Max yielded. “Can you get off me now?”

Jane's face was red with anger and embarrassment, but she climbed off Max all the same. Her mind was racing through rationalization. _'Max wasn't there. She doesn't know. But would the party have told her? If she does know, I can't say anymore. She figured me out so quickly—she'll connect everything. She'll tell. She's going to tell.' _Why did that thought frightened her so much? It was only a few weeks ago that she had hoped Mike would guess who she had been. But now. . . _'Now, I'm Jane. Jane is normal, and confident, and has friends. Jane is going to be Mike's girlfriend, and will finish school in a few years, and go on to live a whole life in a wide world. . .And El. . .El was trapped, and powerless, and hurt people. El doesn't deserve any of this.' _

“Jane,” Max's voice was distant, but Jane felt the hand on her shoulder. “Are you ok? Jane?” She felt the tears fall down her cheek, and the arms wrap around her tight. “Hey, it's ok. I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, ok? Ask Lucas, I'm the biggest asshole in the party.” Jane giggled, and Max laughed with her.

“You remind me of Mike,” Jane said, hugging her back.

“Ew, God,” Max laughed again. “I deserve that, I guess. Just promise not to say that again, especially in front of the boys.”

Max felt Jane nod, and the two girls broke apart. “Do you know what happened to Will?” Jane's flash of courage tumbled out her mouth. She could not take it back now, so she would try and see the conversation out till the end.

“You mean,” Max climbed back onto the bed with Jane, and lowered her voice. “You mean when he almost died.”

Jane nodded. “What do you know?”

“I know they don't talk about it,” Max said seriously. “I'm guessing you know more than I do.” Max let the silence hang in the air, as Jane stared at her unblinking. “I'm guessing you lived in Hawkins when it happened.” When Jane did not answer, Max went on. “He was kidnapped, but unharmed. He went to therapy for a year or so after—that's where I come in. I remember his mom taking him out of school every other week. That's when I asked Dustin and Lucas, but they didn't tell me till much later. I've never talked to Will or Mike about it.”

“I don't want to talk about it either,” Jane said after another stretch of silence. “Is that okay, Max?”

“Yeah,” she said eagerly. “I didn't mean to be pushy or anything. I was just surprised. Whatever we talk about stays between us, I promise. I promise, Jane,” she repeated, grabbing one of Jane's hands and giving it a squeeze.

“Ok,” Jane believed her. “I knew Mike, and Lucas, and Dustin. I never met Will. I never knew any of them well, but I knew Mike best.” She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks, and she could not look Max in the eye. “He was the best friend I ever had. He. . .he—he means a lot to me, then and now.”

Max nodded silently and continued to squeeze Jane's hand in solidarity. “You're not gonna like what I'm about to say, but I'm saying it as a friend. Do you believe that?”

Jane did not know how she felt, but nodded all the same. “Stays between us,” she repeated out of habit.

“Ok,” Max took a deep breathe. “I understand,” she almost immediately stopped, choosing her words carefully—much more carefully than she had in a long time. “I get that Mike is good with you, but when he acts like an idiot you can't blame yourself. And you can't let him off the hook just cause it's easy.” Her temper was getting the best of her now, so Max went on heedless. “You can't let him walk all over you or think that he can have whatever he wants, regardless of your feelings. If you told him you needed time, then he can't whine or sulk or be a dick—to guilt you or whatever—till he gets his way!”

Jane had the distinct feeling that they were not just talking about her and Mike now, but she considered the words carefully all the same. “Thank you, Max.”

“Oh, yeah,” the red-head responded, a bit nonplussed. “Anytime. . .You honestly took that way better than I thought you would.”

Jane stared back at her, still thinking about what she said. “We're friends,” she said at last. “I trust my friends.”

“Yeah,” Max realized that they were still holding hands, so she gave Jane one last squeeze, then pulled her hand back. “I trust you too. I don't mean to bully you into—i don't know. I don't really care if you and Mike are together. I just. . .I know that this kind of stuff can get shitty with close friends.”

Jane had another jolt of courage and asked, “Like with you and Lucas?”

“And Dustin,” Max admitted with a sad smile. “Things were awkward there for a while. I mean, it's still kinda happening. Lucas and I aren't always on the best of terms. And I like Dustin,” Jane could see the momentum building inside Max, as she went on. “I do, but I can barely stand Lucas half the time—and he's really trying. Like, really trying. . .I guess that's why I like him. I just can't see Dustin doing that, at least not for me.”

“Is Lucas your boyfriend?”

“Sometimes,” Max said, pulling at the ends of her hair. “I think we're fighting, but. . .” She trailed off.

“I'm sorry,” Jane did not know what else to say.

“It's ok,” Max said. “It's my fault. Don't get me wrong, it's _his _fault. But I just have to be such a pain-in-the-ass. I mean,” Max said, finally pulling her hands away from her hair and throwing them to her side in exasperation. “Lucas has a big mouth. And he thinks he always knows best, and it's super frustrating cause he's right a lot. Which means that when he's wrong, it takes a freaking miracle to convince him otherwise.”

Jane could not help but think about how Lucas had branded her a traitor years ago. _'He was right though,' _said the voice in her head. _'But he said sorry anyway, after I protected Mike and Dustin.'_

“I understand,” Jane tried to sympathize. “So. . .”

“So,” Max echoed.

“So. . .Mike promised me that we'd be friends no matter what. And I trust my friends, so I wanted to give him a chance. Even if it's not my fault. . .for being pushy, or scared, or. . .bad. If we can't be friends, I—I don't know what I'll do. But I hope I can talk to you about it, whatever happens.”

“Definitely,” Max nodded vigorously. “What are friends for?”

* * *

_Slam! _The boys heard the basement door shut, as Max left.

“What?! What now?!” Lucas yelled after her. He turned around to face the rest of the party, “What'd I do now?”

“I think it's more about Mike this time,” Dustin answered. “You took his side, and Max was clearly taking Jane's.”

“What sides?” Lucas puzzled.

“Yeah,” Mike rose to his own defense. “There are no sides. We're not fighting or anything.”

“Dude, seriously?” Dustin and Will chorused.

“A fucking rock could feel the tension at lunch, Mike,” Dustin said.

“Yeah, what happened anyway?” Will followed up.

“Nothing,” Mike lied easily, but he could see on everyone's face that they did not buy it.

“Let me guess,” Lucas said matter-of-factly. “You asked her out?”

“What? No!” Mike protested.

“You went too far making out?”

“Jesus, no—”

“I seriously don't want that image, Lucas,” Will interjected.

“You asked her to be your girlfriend, and she said 'no'?”

“I—” A lump caught in Mike's throat, and he was caught.

“That's it,” Dustin declared before he could continue. He put his hand on Mike's shoulder. “That's rough, buddy.” Mike shrugged him off.

“Oh my god,” Will complained. “Who cares? Let them work it out themselves. Mike, want help on the campaign? With or without Jane, we're still gonna run it in two weeks, right? On Thanksgiving weekend?”

“She's gonna play,” he snapped at Will, ignoring his question. “And she didn't say 'no', alright?” He yelled the last part at Lucas and Dustin, who cowed for a moment.

“So that was it,” Lucas said under his breath to Dustin, who nodded. “Dude, it's fine. Max said 'no', like five times before she was my girlfriend. Here's what you gotta do—”

“You're not seriously gonna take advice from him are you?” Dustin said in a droll. “They've broken up like twice already.”

“Better than a doofus who can only get a girl at summer camp,” Lucas shot back.

“It's the same girl!” Dustin yelled back. “Two summers in row, cause this doofus knows how to treat girls with love and respect!”

“If you'd shut-up for a second, you might agree with me then!” Lucas shouted him down, then turned to Mike again. “You got to get her a gift—something that says: 'I'm sorry'—and, 'you mean a lot to me'—but also, 'There's more where this came from'. Got me, Mike?”

Mike was reeling a bit, but nodded along. “I'm broke, though. I still owe Nancy like ten dollars from all the times I raided her piggy-bank for the arcade.”

“I want to die,” Will deadpanned, lying face-up on the floor across the basement.

“That's nice, Will,” Dustin waved a hand in his direction and gave his input. “I bet Mr. Clarke could give us some leads on non-yard work jobs in the neighborhood.”

Mike nodded and was actually starting to believe that this was good advice. Then he remembered the letter and considered showing it to them. The thought lingered only a moment, before sense returned in force. _'Worst case scenario, Jane never speaks to you again, and they never let you live down how you screwed this up—and the letter is concrete proof that you had a chance. Best case scenario, Jane starts going out with you, and they never let you live down how Jane had to be the one to spell it out for your dumb-ass, before you wised up and stopped being a total douche.' _

Both Lucas and Dustin were still rattling off suggestions for ways to make money and ideas for presents. “I think I'll work on the campaign. Will, I could bounce some ideas off of you.”

“Thank God,” Will came to life and walked to the table. “Let's do it. Will the Wise, at your service.”

Lucas and Dustin joined them, but hardly contributed. They were still bickering about the best course of action for Mike. He smiled and nodded—and said, “yeah, that's good”, and “no, he's right”—every once in a while to appease them. All the while formulating his own plan, as he leafed through his D&D notebook and thought about all the things he wanted to say to Jane on Monday.

* * *

Jane could hardly sleep Sunday night, so it was not exactly a surprise when Hopper shook her awake. Thankfully, it was a cold day—so she pulled up her jeans, put on a gray sweatshirt with colorful geometric shapes and designs, and pulled her bed-head hair back with a headband. The waffles Hopper had put in the toaster for her were not cooked all the way through, but she stomached them all the same.

“Love you, kid,” Hopper said when they pulled up to the drop-off curb.

“I love you, bye,” Jane called back, as she hurried to make the first bell.

It was a blessing in a way that she did not have time to think about Mike this morning, but not quite worth the trade-off of feeling this tired. Both helped her feel less anxious, as she stopped in front of Homeroom to take a breathe. Jane looked up and peeked through the small square window in the door. Her eyes immediately found the party and the seat open next to Mike.

_'...that he saves for me. Let this be a good sign,' _she thought, opening the door and walking swiftly to her seat.

“Hi, Jane,” Max waved.

“Hi,” Dustin said first, then Lucas and Will.

“Morning,” Mike smiled, not quite looking at her as she sat down.

“Hi, Max. Hi, everyone. Good morning,” Jane responded in turn. She smiled back at Mike, who caught her eye for a moment before the bell rang, and class began.

A minute passed before Jane's nervous energy returned, and she was dying to get on with the day—to get a break from Mike. Sitting next to him, seeing his small movements out of the corner of her eye, and feeling how close they were: it was all a bit too much. It was like she could only take shallow breaths. She wanted to look into his eyes, to slap him, to kiss him and hold him, maybe even to talk or just be alone together, or not see each other at all. This halfway closeness was too much.

_'I wonder if Mike felt like this,'_ she suddenly realized. _'This is waiting. This is being friends, but not friends cause we're more than that. This is the in between.'_

Lost in thought, Jane did not notice the piece of paper on the table in front of her. So Mike picked it up and reached under the table for Jane's hand. She almost jumped when she felt him pushing something into her palm. She breathed deep for the first time since she walked into class and took the paper from him.

Slowly, like she was trying to avoid a hundred spying eyes, Jane unfolded the paper and looked down to read it.

_I'm sorry. Let's talk at lunch. Meet at A/V clubroom._

Jane folded up the note and put it in her backpack. Still moving slowly and looking toward the front of the class, she moved to find Mike's hand with hers. Jane intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed; and when she knew that he was stealing a glance at her, she nodded slightly and pulled away.

Homeroom was over soon after, and the party split off in their usual way. Jane saw Max looking back in the hallway and was somehow sure that she had been watching her entire silent exchange with Mike. The red-head gave her a thumbs-up, and Jane smiled back. The rest of the morning passed quickly enough without another swell of the unpleasant energy that had kept Jane up last night. In fact, she had practically dozed off in Biology and barely participated in the kickball game during P.E. As she exited the locker room, Max fell in beside her.

“Good news?” Max guessed, as Jane yawned.

She nodded and said, “I think so. I'm going now to talk to Mike.”

“Makes sense,” Max shrugged. “I'll make some excuse to the boys, though I think they basically know what's up. So. . .are you just gonna start going out or—?”

“No,” Jane answered a little too quickly. “I still don't know. I just. . .I need to talk with him.”

“No, that's good,” Max re-assured her. “You'll be fine. Worst case, your just friends again. And if you want to be more later—well. . .” Jane gave a nervous laugh, which turned earnest when Max chuckled along with her. “I'll let you go. We're still on for this weekend, right?”

Jane nodded. “The mall, then I sleep-over your place.”

“See you then, and good luck!”

Jane could see Mike at the end of the hallway, waiting for her outside the A/V room. When he noticed her still a bit of a ways off, he brought his finger to his lips in a “quiet” motion and slipped through the door. Her curiosity outweighed her nervousness, but Jane looked both ways down the nearly deserted hallway before she followed him into the room.

“Hey,” Mike said, as he took a seat at one of the large, square tables. “Um—did you, like, bring your lunch?”

Jane shook her head, “Woke up late.”

“Oh, good,” Mike said as he reached into his backpack. “I mean, not good. You know, but I brought lunch for us.” He had a brown bag in each hand and held one out to her, as she took a seat next to him. “It's not much, but. . .”

“Thank you,” Jane said, opening the bag to find two Capri Suns, a banana, a baggie of goldfish, and a PB&J sandwich.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, till Mike spoke. “Lucas said Max came over your place last weekend. That's cool, though I guess I'm a bit jealous.” He laughed nervously. “Um, just kidding. Did you, uh, have a good time?”

Jane took a moment to chew and swallow slowly, then answered, “It was good. I'm going next weekend to hang out and sleep-over.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mike's voice was a bit strained, and Jane thought that he must have expected that they might go back to Saturdays in his basement. She did not know whether or not to be angry at that: obviously, things could not be the same as before. At least, it was obvious to her.

“Yeah,” she repeated, not knowing what else to say.

“You and Max are still gonna start the campaign with us over Thanksgiving break, right?” Mike asked, and he could not keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“Yes,” Jane reassured him. “Of course, Mike. I want—I am excited, really.”

_'See,'_ Jane told herself. _'Friends again. We can be friends again. We'll always be.'_ But that thought was quickly leading to another and another; and now she wanted nothing more than to hold Mike—to embrace him in the dark room, while they were alone together.

“Awesome, all right.” Mike ate the rest of his sandwich quickly, then leaned over to reach inside his backpack again. “I got you something.”

Jane wiped off her hands and took the small, yellow notebook that Mike held out. “What is it?”

“It's a notebook, but I thought it could be a journal—well, kinda like a journal. Let me explain,” Mike took a pause. Jane flipped through the college-rule pages, but stopped when she noticed Mike's hands fidgeting in his lap and the serious look on his face. “I really screwed up. I like really screwed up. I told you that I'd be a good friend, no matter what. But I—I. . .I'm so sorry for ignoring you.”

“Mike,” Jane watched a tear roll down his cheek and heard his voice crack.

He sniffled and wiped his face. “Wait, just let me explain. Is that ok?” Jane nodded. “I never want to act like that again, but I can't promise to not be sad or upset or—”

“Act like a dick,” she offered, seriously.

“Yeah, I'm a dick,” Mike admitted, seeing Jane smile and deciding to lean into it. “I am. I'm a total asshole. I'm a dweeb and a fucking moron—sometimes. And if you still want to—if you meant what you said in. . .in your letter. Then maybe you'd be willing to do these journals with me. See, I have one too.” Jane watched him pull out a purple twin to her own notebook. “I was thinking we could write to each other. And we'll switch the next day to read what the other wrote, then give them back the day after. And you can write whatever: just thoughts or feelings that you want me to know: things you forget to say in person, or can't say, or just—cause you asked me to tell you how I feel, in your letter. If you meant it—I don't know, it's kind of stupid.”

“It's not,” Jane argued. “It's not stupid.” She held the notebook close to her chest and leaned toward Mike. She wanted to say so much at this moment, but could not collect her thoughts. “I can now,” she blurted out. “I meant it. I meant every word. We can talk now. . .about anything.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “I have a hard time being my normal self around you. I like you too much. I just want—”

_'Now or never,' _Mike told himself.

“I just want to show you how much I like you. I want to kiss you and hold your hand. I want to be with you in every class and after school—on the weekends and when I go to bed. I've never,” Mike took a deep breathe. “Some time apart will be good, and taking things slowly will be good. I'm gonna give you all the time you need, and this will help. . .I hope. It will be like being together without—well, you know. And I hope it will bring us closer in the way that makes you feel safe with—with me.”

Jane nodded, and the two sat in silence for a few more minutes. Then Mike watched as Jane reached into her bag and pulled out a pen. She opened her notebook, wrote something down, then pushed it into Mike's chest. “Read it.”

“Now?” Jane nodded, and he did the same.

_Can I kiss you?_

Mike looked up to see Jane standing next to him. He nodded again and pushed his chair away from the desk. But as he tried to stand, Mike felt Jane's arms push down on his shoulders. Slowly and carefully, she lowered herself onto Mike's lap, placing a leg on either side of the chair and throwing her arms around him.

The two stared into each others eyes, as Mike shifted slightly and placed his arms around her waist. It was intoxicating: how she felt and looked and smelled. He immediately remembered the last time they were this close—in his bed when he had almost ruined it all—and feelings of guilt and arousal stirred within him. Jane had been soft and beautiful that day, and her hair smelled of lavender. Now, her weight was pressed against him; she was not wearing any make-up; her clothes were loose and comfortable; and she smelled of sweat of from P.E. and something indefinable. . .something that made him grip her waist, rest his head on her chest, and breathe in deep.

Jane stifled a moan, as Mike pulled her close. She had already brought one hand up and was running her fingers through his hair. She tried to take him all in: the touch and smell and sound of his body made her forget everything else.

_'Don't say anything,' _she told herself and Mike too, willing him to hear her thoughts. _'Don't make this so real that it disappears.' _

She moved her hand to feel his cheek. . .to lift his chin. Their lips met, soft and quick. Mike's body was stiff, and his hand seemed glued in place. But Jane felt his lips give way and gasp for air. She allowed him a moment and looked deep into his eyes, as she parted her lips and kissed him again. His lips moved with hers: open, close, bite, suck, breathe, tongue. . .and a low moan she gave that he echoed, when her weight shifted on his lap.

The room filled with the sound of their lips coming together again and again, till the first bell rang several long minutes later. Jane lifted herself off quickly, and Mike winced as he stretched his legs and felt the stiffness that had set in.

“Sorry, Mike,” Jane said, trying not to laugh.

“Worth it,” he groaned, as he gathered up their trash and picked up his bag. “You go first, just in case someone's right outside. I'll meet you in class.”

“Ok,” Jane said. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“When we trade,” she lifted up her notebook. “Can we kiss too? Not like,” Jane felt herself blush. “Not like when alone, but just a kiss so you know—so we know, the other is still waiting. . .that I still want to.”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded vigorously. “I want to—so, yeah.”

Jane smiled and left.

* * *

_For Mike_

_I'm still thinking about you. I'm thinking about the mall too. Max is taking me on Saturday. Hopper is giving me money for clothes, but I don't know what to get. Joyce took me shopping a few times, and I like all my clothes but she picked them out for the most part. Max isn't gonna do that, I don't think. So I'll have to pick something for me, just for me. You better like it!_

* * *

_Hi, Jane. I hope your classes are going well. We didn't meet at the library today, but I'll be there if you want. The party too, Max and everyone. Anyway, we got a pretty good start on that History project, and if you still wanted to work on it together, I was thinking we could do an all-day thing at the public library the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I could invite Lucas and Max too. I know they haven't made it that far. You get it. I can't wait to see you tomorrow._

* * *

_Mike, you can talk to me in person still. I hope you know that. I'm doing well in classes, but I'll be asking you about English in the library tomorrow. You don't mind, right? I wish we could have gone to school together, and grown up together. I wish I was a part of the party, like Will. It's like you said though. I'm gonna make sure that I'm with you all for a long time, if you'll have me. And you can give me a real kiss still, not just on the cheek. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. I might just have to show you._

* * *

_I seriously think you have a good fashion sense, Jane. Mrs. Beyers might have picked them out, but you're the one who's wearing them. I like the little choices you make. I don't even know if you notice, but I do. I like the blue clip in your hair, even when you have it tied with a scrunchie. I like the tighter jeans and baggy sweatshirts you've been wearing together with your chucks. I definitely liked the outfit you wore to my house when I made you lunch. All that to say is I'll definitely like what you get! I can't wait to see what you write me. It makes me feel closer to you. It makes me smile. I seriously get distracted in class just thinking about getting home to read it. And I get so nervous writing to you, but I still think this was one of my better ideas._

* * *

_Mike! Next week, we need to read these during class or lunch so we can exchange twice the same day, so we can write to each other everyday. I can't wait either. I'm thinking all day about the things I could tell you. Remember when I first came over, and you saw your name in my math notebook? It wasn't just handwriting practice. I was writing out our names together just to see how they looked. You're not the only one who gets jealous, do you know that? I feel bad even writing this out, but I'm glad that the only girl in the party is Max, and I'm glad that she is with Lucas. I even get jealous of Will, which is why I absentmindedly was writing your name down that day in the first place. I must sound so stupid and selfish and I don't know what else. I won't even say yes, and I still want you all to myself._

_I thought about erasing that yesterday, but I decided just to come back to this notebook now. It's Saturday, and my Dad is about to drive me over to Max. We're gonna take the shuttle to the mall from this stop by her house. Thank you for saying all that about what I wear. I try not to let what other people say get to me, but it had been annoying me in the back of my mind since the first day at school. I didn't realize when it happened, but some girls had made fun of my clothes. Oh, and a lot of the stuff you mentioned was the style where I was fostered. Or I guess, it was Kali's style. She was my foster sister, but believe me she dressed even more out there and kind of tomboyish. I guess I never told you about that. I haven't told you a lot about my life before starting High school._

_Coming back again on Sunday. Mike, am I writing too much? I don't want to talk about my past, right now. It's painful for me, you could probably guess. I know you'll understand. Anyway, I need to write because when I'm writing to you it's like you said. I feel close to you. Sometimes, I close my eyes and reach out. I reach out with my thoughts and try to see you, hear you, touch you. I can see you in the basement playing video games, or writing in one of the DnD notebooks. I can hear you telling your Mom about your day at school, maybe even about me. I have to think that it is all part of liking someone, so I don't seem so crazy to myself. I really can't be sure, I guess. I've never liked someone the way I like you, Mike. Not even close. I thought about wearing my new outfits to school on Monday, but I wanted as many new clothes as possible so I bought a lot of discount “out-of-season” stuff, Max said. It's too cold for the more colorful clothes I got, but I did get these high-waist jeans that I'll probably wear with a few layers and Nancy's jacket. I'm glad I took that from you. And your shirt. I wear it to bed almost every night._

* * *

_I haven't been this excited for a campaign in a while. To be honest, the party barely plays DnD anymore. We have like two campaigns during the summer, and one more during Thanksgiving and Winter break, but that's it. Schools getting tougher, and I guess we're all just growing up and growing apart. You're the only one I've said that too, and even just writing it out makes me feel stupid. I mean, I don't even think I've heard of friends as close as we are, even now. But it's still different. We use to spend every day together, for years. Then Lucas and Max started going out, and Dustin would go to summer camp, and high school started, and I was I don't even know how to explain. I pushed them away for a while a few years ago, especially Will. It's all good now, but I think that's when it started. _

_In some ways, I'm doing it again now. I'm pulling away from them to grow closer to you. We are all moving apart to make room for you, Jane, in our lives. It's much better this time. I think everyone agrees. Dustin and Lucas won't stop helping me (if you can even call it that) with relationship advice. Will doesn't, but he's there in other ways. He has always been there for me in the best of ways. And I feel guilty now because they all mean so much to me, and they've all done so much for me, but all I can think about is you. All I can think about is how I want to be a better friend, a better person, to you and for you and because of you. I want you to be the closest person in the world to me. I hope you can believe me, even when we fight. Or if I push you away, or am an asshole again, I hope you can have faith that we'll make-up and be together again. _

_I hope you wear your new clothes to school on Monday. I'm excited to see them and to see you again. I miss the look in your eyes, and the way you walk. I miss your smile, and your hand in mine at lunch. I miss watching you chew the ends of your pencil in class when your thinking, and the way you hold your breathe when your trying to find what to say. I miss every bit of you._

* * *

“Ah, hell,” Lucas spat out, grabbing Max's hand and walking into the school.

“Seriously,” Dustin followed after them.

“Get a room,” Will said half-serious, as he walked away.

Mike could barely hear them. Jane's hands were in his hair, and her tongue was moving past his lips for the first time in a week that felt like an eternity. He managed to kiss her back and place his hands gently on her hips. They were practically blocking the doorway to the school, and Mike could feel some students shouldering past them. It did not matter. Mike deepened their kiss and held Jane tight against him, picking her up for a moment and moving them a few feet to the side. Mike heard a noise of surprise issue from Jane's locked lips, which smiled wide against his.

“I missed you,” Jane said, as soon as they broke apart. “Here,” she already had the notebook out and was pushing it into Mike's hands. “Read it. Read it before the end of the day. I want it back before school ends.”

“Ah, ok,” Mike nodded, who was still in a bit of a daze. “Are—uh, are these new?” His hands were still on her hips, and he tugged at the belt hoops in her jeans. Jane nodded, but offered no other comment. “It matches Nancy's jacket—or, I guess your jacket. I called her by the way, and she was cool with you keeping it. You know, in case you were worried.”

“Thank you, Mike,” Jane beamed at him. “We're gonna be late, come one.” She grabbed his hand, interlocked her fingers, and pulled him inside. Mike felt the eyes—more than ever before—watching them up and down the hallway. “You have your notebook too, right?”

Jane stopped by her locker, turned to face Mike, and held out her hand. She watched Mike scramble and laughed to herself. _'Lovesick,' _the word came into her mind effortlessly. _'I'm lovesick. Everything he does makes my heart leap out of my chest.'_

“Here,” Mike handed it over. “Do you want to sneak away for lunch?” Mike saw as Jane blushed, but she did not answer. He lowered his voice, “Not for anything, just for some privacy from the party so we can read these together?” He held up the yellow notebook.

“Where are we meeting?” Jane asked, as an answer.

“The bleachers by the track and football field. Might be in some wastoid company, but they won't bother us, if we don't bother—”

The bell rang. Jane agreed quickly, and the two raced to homeroom.

* * *

“Way to go—uh, what's his name?”

Troy took a long drag from Anthony's cigarette, then handed it back. He blew out the smoke and answered with disdain dripping from his mouth, “Wheeler.”

“Way to go, Wheeler!” Anthony yelled toward the other end of the bleachers, then watched as the lanky nerd and the new girl broke apart, gathered up their things, and started walking off. “Ah, come on! I was digging the view! Ah, fuck 'em.”

“You can say that again,” James lifted his considerable bulk off the bleachers and stretched out. “You shoulda seen Kevin when they were sucking face this morning. I woulda bet that he was gonna take a bat to Wheeler then and there.”

“Matter of time,” Troy followed suit and stood up. “See ya later. C'mon, James.”

“Going to tell daddy, Kevin?” Anthony mocked, as the two shuffled away. “Ain't they cute though!?” He turned to the other three sitting with him. “Hey, you think that meat-head is really gonna start some shit?”

“Uh, who cares?” Julia answered, and the others chuckled. “Wheeler's a loser, and she's a stuck-up freak.”

“Were all fucking losers, here. Or did you forget?” Anthony flicked the cigarette at her. “Well, either way: we'll sit back and enjoy the show.”

Meanwhile, Mike walked Jane back toward the school and apologized for being wrong about “those assholes” on the bleaches.

“It's really ok, Mike. It didn't. . .really bother me. Did it bother you?”

“No,” Mike answered a bit too quickly. He glanced at Jane and answered again, “Ok, a little. I guess I get embarrassed easy. I don't even care what those people think—really, I don't. I just. . .did you see Troy with them? He's had it out for me since fucking kindergarten, and after what happened at Homecoming. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

He had turned to face her and grabbed both her hands. That same familiar sense of anger and gratitude filled Jane, so she took a moment to herself to answer. _'He means the best. Think the best of him, and ask him to do the same for you.'_

“Mike,” she squeezed his hands and looked straight into his eyes. “Don't treat me like I am helpless. I'm not. We. . .we'll look out for each other. Promise?”

“Yeah,” Mike swallowed. “And I'm sorry. I care about you, and I want to protect you, so that's why I—I'll. . .uh, I get it. Obviously, it goes both ways. You feel the same way about me, right?”

Jane nodded. “You're lucky you're smart.” She kissed him lightly.

“I'm the luckiest idiot in the world,” Mike smiled.

“No more calling yourself that,” Jane decided to push her goodwill. “Not idiot, not moron, not asshole, not freak, not loser—”

“I don't know if I can promise that,” Mike interrupted, smiling sadly.

“Try,” Jane squeezed his hands as hard as she could. “If you need reminder, I'll do it, dummy.”

Mike laughed, and Jane kissed him again. “Ok, you win.”

They walked slowly around the field hand-in-hand, as they waited for lunch to end: silently for a few minutes, till Jane broke the silence. “Mike. . .does it bother you that people think we're together, when. . .when we aren't yet.”

_'There's that word again,'_ Mike thought to himself, as a tornado of emotions raged inside him. _'The word that holds all my pain and hope.'_

“It doesn't bother me, except. . .” Mike took a second to choose his words carefully. “It bothers me when the party pokes fun at us. . .at me. I can't say anything back because I don't know why, not yet.” He could not look at her, so he let the silence drag on to allow her time to think—if she wanted to say anything at all. When she did not, he added, “I know you'll tell me when you're ready. I trust you, Jane.”

“I know,” she said back.

“I can't help how I feel about you,” Mike started again. “Any and every part of you that you share with me, I'm gonna take.” Jane laughed at that, and Mike felt encouraged. “I'm only a little embarrassed to hold you or kiss you, in front of everyone. I mean it's a bit much, but totally worth it.”

“I feel dizzy,” Jane said. It was an understatement. She had been biting her tongue, as thoughts rushed through her head. Her laughs were clear moments of relief from the rationalizations and imaginations that crawled to the forefront of her mind. “Take me to the nurse, please.”

“Yeah,” Mike took Jane's arm in his to support her. “Let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is--basically, on time because I love you all. Weekly Updates till we're done! Alright, hope you enjoy: I'm going to crawl into a hole and die now.


	8. Trust

Jane ended up skipping Algebra to rest in the nurse's office, but she was back in class for English with Mike. She gave him a quick smile, as she sat down a moment before the bell rang, and muttered, “Everything's fine.” He had smiled back, but asked her again after class if she was alright. “Tired, is all.” It was half true, she told herself.

She spent the next few nights writing around the whole truth in their letters. Writing to Mike everyday was definitely a good move: his writings got sweeter by the day. Always complimenting her, always sharing with her, and he was even managing to be less self-deprecating. It was painful though, letting Mike into her past bit by bit. It was stressful, navigating the three years away from Hawkins without giving away the whole truth.

Part of her wished that he would just guess: figure it out like Max, so she did not have to deal with the crushing weight of making the choice herself. Every time she tried to work out for herself why she did not tell him, none of her reasons added up. But at the end of it all, that is not what mattered. Whether in word or letter, or in any way she could think of, Jane could not bring herself to tell Mike.

_'He saved El. He may have loved her, but he pitied her too. He took her in like a pet: a lost, broken thing that could only cling to the people who treated her kindly, and lash out at the ones who hurt her. I'm different. I'm different now. I'm better. I'm not a monster. He loves Jane: a strange girl who runs after him, but who also has her own life.'_

Reading in between the lines of his letters, Jane knew now without a doubt that Mike began to like her because she had showed how much she liked him first. He was not used to any girl looking his way twice. It was flattering and did a lot for his self-confidence; but that was fine. Because even though she liked the Mike who was guarded and jealous for the sake of protecting his friends and himself from the people who seemed to hate them for being different, she was delighted to discover the kind, smart boy who was willing to go into uncharted territory with those same friends. . .and with her.

Wednesday came in a flash, and plans had been made to spend Thanksgiving out of town. Hopper had convinced her to visit her Aunt Becky again. Jane had always been more sad and frightened when she thought about her Aunt, than actually mad at her for giving her over to the foster system. Jane had made the call to talk with her aunt on Tuesday night, and though she could not say much, it soothed her to hear her aunt apologize—without excuse or explanation—that she could not be the family Jane needed, but that she wanted to be in her life in some small way all the same.

She had spent the whole night awake with Hopper on the couch: crying, and talking, and finally realizing how it would be good to come to terms with the pain and move forward. Her dad—her real dad, for now and from now on—had helped her see how much that pain and rejection had affected her. And then her thoughts were back to Mike again, as she crawled into her bed in the early morning.

_'When he knows, and if he rejects you too, it won't be the end. You'll have Hop, and you'll have Max. And you'll even have Lucas, and Will, and Dustin as friends. It won't be the end. It won't be the end.' _

But still, there was no sense in bringing that choice on yet. Everyone, Mike included, helped her take things slowly. And though a small voice in the back of her head said that it would be worse the longer she kept her secret, everything else in her begged Jane to enjoy what she had now.

She managed to fall asleep, and she continued to sleep on her way to her Aunt's house. Becky had cooked dinner for the three of them. Jane felt the panic inside her build throughout the night, but she managed to enjoy the meal.

“You did really good,” Hopper consoled her on their drive back.

“I couldn't look at her,” Jane said in a small voice.

“You talked to her though, that's something,” he reached over and ruffled her hair.

She smiled and said, “Hands on the wheel, dad.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiled back. “Remember: we take it slow. We take it one step at a time—no stopping, but not pushing ourselves. . .and we'll get there, soon.”

“Soon,” she said back.

* * *

“Something's coming,” Mike said in a menacing whisper.

_The party was lined up outside the desecrated temple of Pelor_. Jane reread her notes, as she tried to keep a grasp of the situation. Her mage figurine was at the back of the party: wizards could never be on the front line because they had too little health. She somehow knew that the party's strategy on that was about to backfire.

“Hurried footsteps coming from the stairs behind you, and chants are echoing inside the chamber ahead. What do you do?”

Max was the first to speak, “I move to the back of the party and whisper to the mage, 'Stay behind me'.”

“Good move,” Lucas said. “We need to rush in. If we start combat inside ASAP, then the enemies from behind won't arrive till later rounds.”

“We're not gonna stop the ritual,” Dustin argued. “Let's take out the small fries coming from behind, then see what damage control we can do in the chamber afterwards.”

“Mike, does my Sanctuary spell complete?”

“As you argue, the sound of footsteps are getting louder.” Mike looked at Will and added, “Almost, but not yet.”

“I'm watching,” Jane cut in. “When they reach the bottom, I Fireball.”

“What? No, we gotta go in,” Lucas protested to the party at large.

“Buckle up, Ranger,” Max grimaced. “This is happening. I aim and wait to fire my crossbow.”

“I ready my longbow,” Lucas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.

“I'm gonna pick any left off after their attacks with Magic Missile—highest level I can,” Dustin finished.

Mike smiled. He still was not sure that Jane had a good grasp of the game, but she was a much bolder player than he would have imagined. Outside of combat, Max and Dustin took the lead in helping her navigate her utility spells with Will chiming in from time to time with sage advice. But when the fight was on, the mage was fearless. The rest of the party had learned to fear Mike's machinations, traps, and encounters. Not Jane, and so far that lack of caution was paying off.

The party's plan went off without a hitch. “The cultists engulfed in the dying flames: the Zoomer and Ranger pick off those who rush forward to attack, while the auto-hits from the Bard's spell make short work of the rest. Will the Wise: your spell completes, but will only last for the next few rounds. We'll stay in initiative, but you have to act fast! Lucas, your action?”

Dustin was not completely right. It was a poor Dungeon Master that put the campaign on rails: nothing was certain because the party constantly interacted with the world. They made their way into the chamber to find the fiend in the middle of their ritual, using the life force of the party's lost Paladin to summon some demonic entity. And though the party manage to free their Paladin from the binds restraining him, not to mention finishing off the cult leader after-the-fact, they could not stop the ritual.

“An aspect of Orcus has been unleashed upon this world. You watch it rise out of the floor, what you now know to be the ceiling of an ancient tomb. Lucas, as you drag the Paladin away toward the door, you don't feel a pulse,” Mike finished solemnly.

“No,” Jane said in little more than whisper.

“It's ok,” Will said without complete certainty. “I can Raise Dead. We just need to run and get back to our keep. We need to warn people.”

“DM, is there anything left of the fiend?” Dustin asked.

“Dustin, dammit!” Max yelled. “We need to go. Mike, I grab the Mage and begin to lead the party out.”

“The fiend and its possessions have seemed to turn to ash, except for the ritual spell book that lies on the floor near the left side of the chamber,” Mike answered. “The ground begins to break underneath it and you. What are the rest of you doing? Your doom is rising before you.”

“Dustin, you go with the rest,” Lucas acted. “I run along the side of the wall and try to grab it, then make my way out.”

“That's a stupid fucking move,” Max berated him.

“It's done,” Will threw up his hands.

“We gotta go,” Dustin tried to keep them on track. “Mike, the rest of us go.”

“Mage,” Mike turned to Jane. “The party, minus your Ranger, is moving out of the chamber. You feel your party's Zoomer pulling at your robes. Do you follow?”

Jane looked up from her notes. She was practically out of spells and did not know how to help. She nodded.

“Ok,” Mike said, turning to Lucas. “You grab the book, coming so close to the skin on the giant forearm of the creature that you can smell the decay oozing from its form. As you turn to rejoin your party and exit the chamber, the demon reaches out for you. . .and you feel something take hold of your insides. I need you to roll a save against Death Magic.”

“Oh, we're fucked,” Dustin sighed.

“Shut up, shut up,” Will pulled at his hair. “Here, roll this one: It's the one I used to finish that fiend.”

Lucas took the d20 in his hand, smiled, and held it out to Max. “Blow a kiss for good luck?”

“Oh my god,” Max slapped the back of his palm, and the die rolled onto the table.

Before it came to a stop, Mike and Lucas yelled out at the same time, “It counts!”

The group held its breathe for a collective moment, and. . .

“Success!” Mike rejoiced with the rest of the party. “You shrug off the effect of this demon's ire, and stumble through the chamber doors. The party makes its way through the winding tunnels and out into the sunlight of the early morning. And though the victory is only temporary, the party survives to warn the world of the coming threat and plan their next attack. But we'll have to finish that during Christmas break.”

“What?” Dustin protested.

“Come on, really?” Will agreed.

“Yeah,” Jane added. Mike locked eyes with her, clearly surprised. She gave him a smile, and he smiled back.

“We played for two days!” Mike yelled at them. “14 hours, guys—not counting breaks. It's 10:30. I'm honestly surprised you made it through this far: this is all I got planned,” he shrugged.

“Well, I'm beat,” Max admitted. She leaned over to kiss Lucas. “You are so lucky.”

“You are,” he smiled and kissed her back.

“I call downstairs bathroom first,” Will said, standing up.

“Upstairs,” Dustin said, gathering his things and heading off.

“Don't forget to call Hopper,” Mike said to Jane. “You can use the phone in the living room, but maybe keep your voice down. I think my parents are already asleep. Max, your staying, right?”

“Yep,” Max answered, as Jane ran up the stairs. “You know. . .Hop is gonna wake the whole house up when he rings the doorbell, anyway.”

Mike considered her for a second. Max had a sly look in her eyes that he was choosing to interpret as mischievous, but helpful. “Right, well. . .I guess we can wait for him upstairs. I'll, uh, be down in a bit.” Mike took a final look around to make sure Jane had grabbed all her stuff, then climbed the basement stairs.

“It went well.” Mike could hear Jane's voice. “Mm-hm. . .I'll watch for you. Bye, dad. Love you too.”

She hung up the phone and turned around. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Mike, you startled me.”

“Sorry, I—uh,” he shuffled a bit closer. “Do you wanna wait for Hopper here? We can sit on the couch and watch the window.”

Jane could see Dustin hovering by the stairs for a moment, till they locked eyes. Dustin gave her a thumbs up and goofy smile, then opened the basement door and was gone. “Come sit,” she told Mike, as she took a seat herself. Jane moved closer the moment he sat down.

He squeezed his arm behind her and wrapped it around her waist. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Jane moved a bit to get comfortable and put her head on his shoulder. “That was fun, Mike.”

“I'm so glad you liked it,” Mike let out a laugh of relief. “Seriously, so glad.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Always. Do your worst.”

“I'm glad we only do that on school breaks,” Jane admitted. “It's a lot.”

“Oh, totally,” Mike nodded. “I mean, Lucas, Dustin, and Will have been playing since fourth grade. And it's great, I love it. But we're growing up, and I don't know. . .we're not gonna just keep playing games in my basement for the rest of our lives. We all like different things now, and that's fine. Besides, DnD will always be there.”

Jane let that hang in the air for a while, then spoke. “I feel like a real Party member now. And sleeping over was fun too. . .with everyone. What was that movie last night? The movie's name?”

“Uh, Star Wars,” Mike answered, a bit nonplussed.

“That was good too. I think I fell asleep though, for part.”

“That's ok,” Mike assured her. “We can watch it anytime. There's two other movies too.”

“That's good,” Jane placed her hand on Mike's leg and began to move it back and forth. “I want to come over and watch.”

“Whenever you want,” Mike held her close.

And after a while, he was not sure how, they were kissing. It had been four days since they had last kissed, and Mike was realizing how much he had missed it. He tried to keep his hands still and his body from reacting to her touch, but his lips hungrily greeted hers, as she placed a hand on his chest and another in his hair.

“I love your hair,” Jane breathed, before she pulled at his curls to bring him close again. She bit softly at his upper lift and opened her mouth little-by-little to encourage their embrace to deepen. Mike did not disappoint, and Jane hummed happily when his tongue found hers.

“I know,” Mike managed to say, as he came up for breathe.

“Hold me,” Jane begged, as she adjusted herself again on the couch. Mike did the same and faced her in earnest. His hand moved from her waist and up the back of her shirt. “Yes,” Jane said into his ear. She felt his fingers play up and down her spine, as he kissed her neck. “You like my voice, I remember. You wrote me.”

“I do,” Mike said, kissing her again and again, and moving his hand up farther up her back. “I love your voice.”

“Stop,” Jane whispered into his ear and pulled his hair back slightly to keep him from kissing her. “No, not that. . .keep moving your hand: touch is ok. That's good.” Mike's other hand was moving smoothly up and down her arm now. It was a wonderful feeling. “That's good.”

_'I miss him. I miss him so much. Thank god I only realize it when he's actually this close. Tonight is gonna be hard, being apart. . .'_

She quieted her thoughts, then noticed something else. “Is everything ok? Mike?”

“Yeah,” Mike's voice had a crack and quiver to it.

“What's wrong?” Jane still spoke into his ear: afraid that pulling back to look at him would end this private moment together.

“I said already. . .You're voice, Jane. In my ear it's—uh, it's—it's a lot.”

“Oh,” she tried not to smile. “Good?” She made her voice a whimper.

“Yes.” Mike clawed at her back and arms, but the slight pain mixed with the electricity of his touch was wonderful to her.

“Ok, mm,” Jane bit her lip, holding back a small laugh. This was a bit silly, but she could tell that Mike was really enjoying it. “I like it too. I like your hands moving across my skin. . .my back. . .my thighs. . .and more. I know we shouldn't, but. . .when I see you, I just want to be close. . .so close, Mike.”

Both his hands were on her back, and his fingernails traced pleasant figures across her back. She felt Mike breathing heavily, and she wanted more. Jane knew this had to stop. . .

_'Or we could sneak up to his room,'_ a voice in her head whispered.

“Mike, I'm sorry,” she tried to take the want out of her voice without sounding harsh. “We got to—we have to stop. I leave soon.”

She felt the shift of his body beneath her, as Mike's hands fell slowly. He pulled down her shirt, placed his hands on her hips for a few moments like he was sorry to let her go, then pushed her away.

“I know.” His voice was not angry or sad—Jane would have expected either or both. It was only distant and final. “I'm gonna use the bathroom. Stop the chief from ringing the door if he comes.”

He was gone for a long time. _'I hurt him again,' _Jane put her face in her hands, when she thought that he might not come back. She took a minute to compose herself like that, practicing again her familiar breathing exercises.

“You ok?” It was Mike, of course. She looked up to see him sitting down. He reached over and rubbed her back slowly. “Jane?”

She nodded, but did not trust herself to speak. _'I don't deserve to be sad in front of him. I'm the problem.'_

“Hey, I'm sorry. Ok?” Mike was still rubbing her back and trying to catch her eye. “I was feeling frustrated and uh—I was. I didn't mean to take it out on you, so that's why. I just needed a minute to myself. I wasn't trying to make you feel. . .bad.”

Jane heard the awkward sincerity in his voice and marveled again how Mike seemed to read her mind. _'How could there be anyone else for me?'_

Mike went on, “I wanted everything that just happened. I'm just as responsible as you. You believe me, right? I don't blame you or anything. I just really hope you wanted to too.”

“I did,” Jane looked at him and put one of his hands in hers. “I believe you. I made you frustrated. So. . I—”

“No,” Mike interrupted. “You didn't. I mean, what we were doing did—but I'm a teenage boy. It can't be helped.” They both laughed. Mike reached over, touched her cheek, and ran his fingers along her neck till his fingers were in her hair. “I want you so bad. It's embarrassing, actually.”

Mike laughed, but Jane squeezed his hand harder. “I'm embarrassed.” She took a deep breathe in and kissed him. They were looking deep into each other's eyes when she spoke, “It's embarrassing how. . .I am around you. I feel. . .I feel.” Jane could see Mike about to speak again, so she kissed him again, longer and deeper this time. “I feel everything with you.”

“I feel alive,” Mike said in answer. Jane smiled and nodded, butting their foreheads gently together.

“Yes.”

There was nothing left to say. The two found a comfortable position on the couch to cuddle into each other, and they spent the next ten or so minutes staring lazily out the front window. The headlights illuminated the living room just as Mike felt himself nodding off. They got up wordlessly and headed to the door. Jane turned to hug him and kiss him a few more times. She opened the door and left without another look back.

Mike felt like running after her—maybe begging Hopper to let her stay another night. He stood there till the car turned out of the cul-de-sac, then headed down the basement stairs.

“You two, I swear,” Max spoke first. “She didn't even say goodbye to us.”

Will was reading comics under the lamp in the corner, and Lucas looked passed out. Dustin spoke up, “It's romantic. Don't you remember what it was like to be young and in love, Maxine?”

“Do I?” Max cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mike did not even bother to answer. He curled up in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, thinking about what he was going to write to Jane tomorrow.

* * *

The next three weeks went by in a blur for Jane, for the most part. First, school work kept her so busy that she hardly had time to consider anything else. Second, Max and her were hanging out every other day after school and on the weekends: the red-head seemed to view her as a godsend to spare her hanging out with the boys during every waking hour. Third, she was growing closer to the rest of her friends—the DnD sessions had given them an inner world to explore and share in common, so that any lull in conversation was filled with recounting their past exploits and planning for the continuation over winter break.

Finally, although she and Mike were not growing any closer, she felt that the relationship had started to find a comfortable pace. They continued to write to each other everyday; and sometimes the letters were heartfelt, but others were mundane and some even a bit sad. She talked to Mike about never having enough to eat in her foster homes, and her aunt wanting a relationship with her after everything that had happened. She talked about missing Kali, but having no real way to find her, since she had run away at seventeen shortly after Jane was adopted.

Mike talked to her about missing his sister Nancy, and the increasing responsibility of taking care of his other sister Holly. He described feeling isolated in his house, since his parents hardly talked to each other—let alone him. He made jokes about no longer having a curfew or any real oversight, as long as he did his chores and did not cause trouble, but Jane could read the hurt between the lines.

One bright day in all that was the public library meeting that the party had the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Dustin had practically finished his project, so he only stayed for an hour. Lucas and Max checked out a book each, and they left around two in the afternoon to catch a movie. Will finished his work a couple of hours later and helped Jane map out her conclusion.

The three left just before five in the evening and decided to go toward Main Street for dinner. Jane telephoned Hopper to make sure it was ok, and he agreed to pick her up at Mike's house before nine o' clock. They walked and talked and ate together like old friends, and Jane never remembered feeling so happy.

They biked together back toward the residential area of Hawkins with Will breaking off toward his home about halfway through their ride. When they arrived, Mike found a note left by his mom, saying that the rest of the family had gone out to dinner. Jane could tell that it bothered him and guessed that this was one of those times he felt excluded from his own family. She walked up and gave him a hug, holding and swaying in place for a long time till she felt Mike's body relax.

“I can stay for a bit,” Jane offered. “I'll call my dad in an hour.”

Mike was silent for a few seconds, still holding her as close as he could. “He doesn't want us alone together.”

_'Shut up,'_ he told himself.

“He thinks we move fast. . .might regret it. He's just protecting me. We talked about it, last week,” she rambled a bit. “What do you think, Mike?”

“I think,” Mike jumped to answer, almost angry at the chief. “I think that I'm trying really fucking hard to go as slow as I can. . .I'm sorry—I'm not mad at you. It's just—”

“f—frustrating,” Jane said for him. She squeezed him and nuzzled at his neck, hoping to calm him. Mike's body relaxed beneath her touch, and she smiled. “Me too. You know I am.”

“I know,” Mike rubbed her back soothingly.

“You're my best friend, Mike.”

He let the words wash over him, but did not know what to say back.

“You have lots of best friends,” Jane continued. “But you're mine.”

“I'm yours,” Mike agreed.

Jane broke their hug and looked into his eyes, and she decided at that moment. “We're gonna talk before Christmas. . .if that's ok.”

“Yeah? I mean, yeah.”

“I'm not gonna lose you again,” Jane held their shared stare and felt the undeniable connection between them. “I'm gonna be more than your friend. . .so don't let me take it back, ok?”

“Ok,” Mike smiled. “It's a promise.”

“Before Christmas,” she repeated, mostly to harden her resolve. “Promise.”

They spent some time on the couch, running their hands over each others arms and through each others hair. It did not feel heated or desperate—as so much of their intimacy had—it was something else. Jane thought about those long minutes for months to come and decided that was when she truly and completely fell in love with Mike Wheeler.

* * *

“Dad, can we talk?” She had thought about this moment almost constantly for the last three days, but her hands were still shaking and her mouth felt dry.

Jim was finishing up their dishes, humming an old tune to himself. “What's up, kiddo?” Jane waited till she had his full attention. Finally, he caught her eye and turned off the sink. “Ok, yeah. . .I'm here, Jane.”

“I'm gonna tell Mike,” she blurted out, staring at him and blushing.

Jim looked back at her, uncomprehending for a long moment. “Oh.”

“Oh?!” Jane pushed herself up from the small kitchen table and stared daggers at her dad. “I'm serious. I'm telling Mike about—about it all. Can I go over on Saturday, the 20th? I'll tell him then.”

Jim moved out of the kitchen and took the seat opposite her. He waited for her to sit back down, then cleared his throat. “I, hmm. . .How do I say this?” Jim muttered to himself. “So you haven't told him yet?"

“What?” The anger dropped out of Jane momentarily. “No, why do you think? Why _did_ you think that?” She corrected herself.

“So all that a few weeks ago. . .was that something you're just doing with boys now?” When Jane looked confused, Jim blustered and continued, “Kissing and stuff, I saw you and Wheeler when you left the sleepover.”

“I don't do kissing with boys! You were spying!” Jane protested, but she was more embarrassed than angry with him.

“You weren't exactly hiding it there, kiddo,” Jim said, equally embarrassed and lost.

“Urgh,” Jane pulled at her hair, got up, and paced the room a few times. She turned and spoke, “Only with Mike. We kiss now, for a while—cuz I have wanted to tell him for a while. Nothing else, and not alone: I'm following the rules.”

_'For the most part,' _Jane added to herself. Half-truths were not really lies: she had long since convinced herself of that.

Jim took a beat, blew out a long breathe, and ruffled his hair. “Anyway. . .Uh, I'll be honest here. I thought you had told him, Jane. I thought you and him had been sneaking away for time alone behind my back since Thanksgiving—at least.”

“I wouldn't,” Jane said automatically, but bit her lip in guilt. “Not really. . .” She looked away, and a long silence fell between them. She chanced a look at her dad, who was staring back at her. “We've been alone a few times. . .and I called you later than I could have. I'm sorry.”

Jim got up and put her arms around her. “Forgiven.”

After a minute, Jane pushed away and wiped her eyes. “Is it okay that I tell him?”

“I trust you, Jane. I always told you that it's up to you. . .But I don't know. Can you do something for me, kiddo?”

“Mm-hm,” Jane nodded.

“Can you please, for the sake of your dear old dad, take it slow with the kissing and stuff?”

Jane laughed and answered mischievously, “For a little while.”

“For High school,” Jim scolded her. “For _all_ of High school.”

* * *

It was Friday, and Jane still had not asked Mike if she could come over on Saturday. She had been trying since Wednesday, after her talk with her dad the previous night. Her heart betrayed her every time she tried to speak. It was so bad on Thursday during English class that Jane asked to be excused. She had run to the nearest restroom, held her head between her knees, and did her breathing exercises.

_'I'm gonna ask him as soon as I see him,' _Jane told herself when she was walking up to the school Friday morning. '_I'm gonna ask him at lunch,' _she thought, as she dressed back into her normal clothes after P.E. _'I'm gonna ask him in English,' _she finally decided. _'I have to. I have to.'_

“Mike,” she turned to face him when the bell rang.

“Yeah,” he smiled back at her, after he packed up his things.

_'He is so pretty, and he's gonna be my boyfriend.'_ She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs and a flush creep up her face.

“After school, let's talk.” She squeezed her eyes shut in shame.

“Yeah,” she heard Mike say. “Meet by the bike racks?”

“Yes,” she nodded and leaned in to press her lips against his cheek. “See you.”

_'I'm gonna ask him after school,' _Jane repeated to herself during the last bit of the day, and she felt a little braver walking to her locker at the end of the day.

“Got some news for you, freak.”

Jane closed her locker and turned around to face Troy. He had hardly bothered her or Mike for the last two months—at least, as far as she knew—but she had felt his eyes following her during the latter half of each day, on and off since she and Mike had met on the bleachers the week before Thanksgiving. She gave him a scathing look and began to walk away.

“Don't know where you're going: Frog-face won't be waiting for you.” He had a devilish grin when Jane turned around to look at him.

“Where?” She marched over to him.

“What are you gonna do about it, freak? Woah!” Troy jumped back, as Jane reached for his shoulder to try and pull him to the floor. “God, you're a rabid bitch. No need, anyway. Kevin should have Frog-face on his back in the boy's locker-room—”

Jane was already walking away, and once she turned the corner, she broke into a run. She was running along the side of the gym toward the boy's locker-room in no time at all, when she noticed Troy following her. _'I just need to catch Kevin off guard, grab Mike, and make it to a teacher.'_ The school was emptying: she had seen as she ran down the halls. But Jane knew that most of the teachers were still in their rooms, finishing up whatever tasks they had left for the end of the school day.

Jane slowed as she entered the locker-room, and something immediately felt off. She could not hear any sounds of yelling, or fighting, or any voice at all. She looked down the first two rows of lockers and saw no one, and her first thought was that she was too late and that Mike might be passed out and hurting somewhere in a corner of the room.

“She's here,” Troy's voice sounded behind her. “I got her to come.”

Then several things happened at once. Jane whipped around to see Troy blocking the exit to the gym. She felt two sets of hands grab her from behind: two wrapped around her waist and the other two grabbed her wrists. Finally, she was being pulled toward the lockers.

“No! No,” Jane thrashed against the grip at her waist that had almost lifted her off the ground. She kicked wildly and tried to bite at the fingers holding her wrists. “Let me go,” she spat each word with desperate hate.

“Troy, you asshole,” said a voice behind her. It was Kevin; she was almost sure. “Shove the rag in her mouth.” She jumped off the floor, shoved her feet into Troy's chest as he approached, and watched him crumple to the floor. “Fucking useless,” Kevin grunted, as he struggled to keep her feet from touching the floor again. He had her now, and Jane felt herself slam against the inside walls of an open locker. She tried to rise and felt the wind knocked out of her, as Kevin's fist connected with her stomach. “Close it, James!”

“No! No! No!” Jane screamed, as the locker closed, and the darkness surrounded her. “No! Let me out! Let me out!”

“C'mon, before someone hears. Get up, Troy. Let's go.”

“Let me out. . .No, no, no. . .no.” Jane's voice failed, as her breathe became more and more shallow. She tried to steady herself—tried to remember her breathing—but it was no good. She was being dragged down the stairs into the basement, screaming at the older man: the only person she knew and trusted for so long. His footsteps faded away as she wept loudly, and the light went off. . .leaving her in the dark for hours. . .for days. . .forever. . .alone. . .alone. . .

_'No. . .no. . .let me out.'_

* * *

Mike had not been waiting long, but he was still feeling nervous. The party had already gotten their bikes and left for the arcade, or maybe the mall. They were all eager to start their winter break as soon as possible. Max seemed to know that he was waiting for Jane—and that they would want some privacy—so she once again gave him a devilish smile and hurried the rest of the party away.

_'Shouldn't she be here by now?' _Mike really did not know what this could be about, except _that. _They had promised, after all. Mike admitted to himself that he had not thought this talk would happen this soon, but he could not wipe the smile off his face every time it came to mind.

Mike had not heard any plans from Jane or Max about this weekend, and the way the two girls had gone out of their way not to make plans made Mike think that they were going to shop together for Christmas presents for Lucas and himself. That was his plan for the weekend, in any case. But maybe Jane wanted to spend the weekend together? Away from their friends and family, and the school: that is how Mike would ask someone to. . .

“Wheeler! Hey, Mike,” a somewhat familiar voice called out from behind him, and Mike turned around to see Alex walking briskly toward him. The two had never said two words to each other, and if he was being honest with himself, Mike had been actively avoiding Alex since Jennifer's party on Halloween.

“Yeah?” Mike tried to keep the dislike out of his voice, but could tell from the look on Alex's face that he had failed.

“You're supposed to be getting your ass kicked in the boy's locker-room,” Alex said, looking worried.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mike felt the heat rise inside him, but did not know what to do. Years of being bullied and beat-up by Troy—and assholes like him—had soured his attitude toward any kind of provocation from people who were not his friends; but it was not like he could actually fight. The Homecoming game had been a fluke. When Kevin said those vulgar things about Jane, his mind had gone blank; and whatever Alex was trying to start, Mike did not think he was really a bad guy.

“I overheard Troy telling Jane that you were in trouble,” Alex continued. “She ran off toward the boy's locker-room in the gym, and Troy ran after her. I think she's in trouble.”

Mike was running back into the school by the time Alex finished. He was scanning the hallways as he went for a teacher he trusted. “Ms. Castle! Ms. Castle, please.” He came to a halt when he saw his homeroom teacher locking up her classroom. She put her hand on her chest and took a deep breathe as Mike nearly slammed into the wall next to her.

“Mr. Wheeler, what on the good Lord's green earth—”

“Please,” Mike's voice filled with panic. “I think Jane Hopper is in trouble. I'm going to the boy's locker-room. Please, get the principle.”

“I'll come myself, young man. But if this is some kind of joke, Mr. Wheeler—”

“It's not, I swear,” Mike began to run again. “I'm going on ahead.” He could hear Ms. Castle saying something to herself behind him, but when he looked back before turning the corner, she was indeed following. The halls were nearly empty, and the gym completely so.

Mike did not see Troy or James, or any one who he knew had it out for Jane or himself. _'Please, please, please,' _Mike prayed as he entered the locker-room.

“Jane! Jane, are you here!? Jane!?” Mike looked down all the rows and peered through the window into the coach's office, but there was no one. He checked the adjoining shower room, then double checked the locker area, but there was no sign of her.

_'If Alex was fucking with me, so he could wait for Jane and talk to her instead, I swear to God. . .' _But that did not quite track when he stopped his search to think. Jane was late, and he had just run through the entire school. If she was not already gone, then where was she? And if she was gone, why would she specifically ask to talk after school?

He was sitting on a bench and holding his head in frustration, when he heard it. It was faint, but it was there: a sound he was unfortunately very familiar with. . .the muffled sound of sobbing, coming from inside a locker. He followed the sound slowly to a locker one row over.

“Jane? Jane is that you? It's Mike. I'm here.” The cries got a bit louder, but there was no answer. He heard Ms. Castle's footstep, and he called to her. “Ms. Castle?”

“I'm here.”

“Someone is locked inside here,” Mike said, as the teacher walked into view. “Can you please get the principle now? Or even the Janitor, I know he has a skeleton key for these.”

Ms. Castle walked up to the locker, tried to peer through the small ventilation slits in the locker, and said, “Who is in there? Are you okay?”

When there was no answer, Mike said, “Please, Ms. Castle. She's not answering me either, but I know it's Jane. I know her voice, and she. . .she was crying.”

Ms. Castle listened for a few more moments, then nodded at Mike. “I can hear breathing. All right, Mr. Wheeler. Stay here, please. I'll be right back.”

“It's okay, Jane,” Mike was almost on the verge of tears himself. “It's okay. We're getting help. And I'm here. . .I'm right here. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have kept a closer eye on Troy and Kevin and them. I know them, and I should have known they would not just let it go. I'm sorry, Jane. This won't happen again—not ever again, I promise.”

No answer and no further cries came from inside the locker, as Mike waited out the long minutes. Finally, the janitor came alone and unlocked the locker. There—half-standing at an awkward angle with her head down and her arms wrapped tightly around herself—was Jane.

“Come on,” the janitor reached in to help her out slowly, but he withdrew in surprise.

“No!” Mike heard Jane scream and peered in to see Jane flail and thrash, then turn to shield herself.

“Jane,” Mike pushed himself in front of the larger man and reached for her. “Jane, it's me. It's Mike, come on.”

“No! No!” She tried to scratch and push him away, but Mike forced his arms to wrap around her and pull. “Stop! Just leave me alone, please! Please, please, please, get off of me!”

Mike felt Jane spill into his arms, and they both fell onto the floor. “I'm not leaving you.” He managed to get out from under Jane, and bring them both to their knees. She had stopped fighting him at those words, and Jane was still for a moment. Then her arms came up to slowly wrap around and grab his shoulders. She began sobbing, and Mike could only hold her.

She cried and cried, as Mike watched Ms. Castle and Principle Murphy come into the locker room. And when the Principle tried to comfort her, and pull her away from Mike and onto her feet, Mike felt her grip him tighter and choke out through her sobs, “No, no, no, no. . .no. . .no.”

“Call her father,” Principle Murphy told Ms. Castle.

“Check the parking lot too,” Mike chimed in, rubbing Jane's back and trying not to feel awkward in front of these grown-ups. “The Chief usually picks her up at five-o' clock, but I'm pretty sure I saw him out there, probably cause the break's started.”

The janitor stayed with them as the two women went to find Hopper, and Mike tried talking to her again. “Your dad's coming, Jane. He's gonna be here any minute. We gotta get up, when he gets here, ok? I won't leave you. I'll be here the whole time, but we should go. We'll go to the nurse, or Hopper can just take you home. I'll ride with you and make sure you get there. I'll call my parent's to pick me up: they'll understand. Whenever you're ready, we can try just standing up and sitting on the bench here.”

Jane did not answer, but Mike felt her breathing steady a bit, then falter and quicken. She was trying to take deep breaths, but broke into quiet sobs every few seconds. On instinct, Mike began to breathe with her. Their chests rose and fell together, till Mike felt her body relax into his. Her grip loosed as well, and Mike pulled slowly away to look at her. Jane still had her head down, and she had a far away look in her eye. He brought up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to gently wipe the tears on her cheeks, as Jane sniffled loudly.

“Ready? We're gonna sit on the bench.” Jane grabbed his hand and squeezed, then nodded. The two stood slowly and managed the task. After a few minutes, Mike heard her speak in a barely audible voice. “What is it, Jane? Sorry, tell me, please.”

“You found me, again,” she said. Her voice sounded so different, Mike thought. It was so strained and soft in a way that made his heart hurt. “You found me. . .don't let them take me away again.”

“I'm sorry, I won't—I'm not going anywhere,” he said, not truly understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly Updates till we're done! Still sick, and it sucks :p But here we go, enjoy!


	9. Reunion

Hopper was beyond angry. He had seen Mike Wheeler waiting for someone, then run inside soon after talking to some kid the Chief did not recognize. That familiar feeling in his gut crept growing until he could not sit still. He left the Jeep parked in the school's pick-up lane and headed inside. Before he could make it to the double doors, the Principle was heading toward him, saying something about his daughter in the boy's locker-room. He marched backed with her toward the gymnasium and shook with anger as the principle explained what she knew of the situation.

His rage abated when he saw the seen: Jane sitting there on the locker-room bench, clinging to Mike like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. . .she had looked exactly the same in the gym, so many years ago. Hopper, the Principle, even the janitor: they all tried to bring Jane to the nurse's office, or at least get her to talk about what happened. It was no use. She would not look at any of them, and Hopper could see from the pained expression on the Wheeler kid's face that Jane tightened her grip around his arm every time someone spoke.

So Hopper pushed them all back and knelt to look at Mike, “Help me, kid. She needs to get out of here, and to tell us what happened.”

“What can _I _do?” Mike looked angry and helpless. “Get Alex. He'll tell you: it was Troy and Kevin, and probably that idiot James too.” He looked around to every grown-up in the room, “They tricked her into coming here, saying I was hurt or something. Get Alex. He heard.”

“Ms. Castle is already looking for him, Mr. Wheeler,” the principle said. “Chief Hopper is right. Just talk to her.”

Mike nodded and slowly put his hand on Jane's arm. “We're sticking together, right? The Chief is here, so we're going home. Jane?”

The Chief nodded and looked to the Principle. “I understand that something happened here, Principle Murphy.”

“Then you understand that this cannot go overlooked,” she cut-in. “I need to talk to Jane and Alex, and if we can act fast, we can call the other boys in and hold them responsible. Chief Hopper, I cannot let this be lost over the Christmas break. I have no authority to harass people in their homes.”

“No, but I do,” Hopper flashed her something halfway between a smile and a grimace. “Order and consequences in your school are important, I understand that. But right now, my daughter is my priority.”

There was no more argument. Slowly, he helped Mike to his feet, along with Jane. They exited the gym, and once the three were out in the parking lot, Hopper saw Jane come to abrupt stop and speak. “Dad. . .”

“I'm here, sweetie,” he knelt again and tried to catch her eye. “We're going home, is that all right? We can figure everything else out there.”

“I'm ok. . .I feel like myself. . .now, I do. But. . .I want Mike to come. We need to talk. Please?”

Hopper took a moment and looked the two up and down: he could see the death-grip that she still had on Mike's arm. “It's fine with me. Mike, we can call your parents at the house. Is that—”

“Of course,” Mike jumped to answer. “I want to come. I'll help Jane into the back.”

* * *

Mike tried not to feel too pleased about the car ride home, but the feeling of Jane relying on him—figuratively and literally—was amazing. Her eyes were closed, her head was resting on his shoulder, and his arm was pressed against her chest.

_'Mike Wheeler, king nerd, biggest weirdo at Hawkins High is comforting the most beautiful girl any one in this town has ever seen. I've kissed her and held her, and I'm here for her now when things are at their worst. That's all I want, Jane. I don't ever want to leave you.' _

Mike ran his fingers along her arm and pressed his cheek into her hair. He had already thought so much about this “talk” that Jane wanted to have—that after everything she still wanted to have—and could only think that she was ready to fully trust him.

But then he saw her in the locker-room and heard her voice call out to him. It had been months since those pangs of familiarity had sent ripples down his spine, but they were back now. Half of Mike wanted look her in the eyes and shake her. He wanted to study every feature and demand answers. The other half of him wanted to stay in this moment forever, riding home in the backseat with no worries or revelations or change. Just each other. . .love songs suddenly started to make sense to him.

_'It's not about unrealistic expectations or pretty words. It's just wanting something so bad and trying to capture that feeling, even though everything will change. . .even though nothing is ever how it should be. El. . .are you here with me now? Did you ever really go?'_

Soon enough the car had stopped, and Mike sighed dramatically. Jane straightened in her seat at the same time and looked at him. “Mike?”

“What's up?” They were walking hand-in-hand toward the front door. Hopper had gone inside, telling Mike that he would explain things to his parents and to find some extra bedding for his night on the couch. _'Take the win, Wheeler,' _he told himself. _'Don't question it.'_

“I'm sorry,” Jane said. “I thought they had hurt you, and—”

“You came to save me,” Mike finished. “Like at Homecoming,” Mike went on. “When you threw Kevin on his ass: that was seriously bad-ass. I've never really. . .I've never been able to stand up for myself like that. When people like him come to bully me, I just freeze. I want you to know I get it.”

“Freeze, I did. . .in there,” Jane said. “I was back, and I couldn't do anything. I'm so sorry, Mike. I wanted to be—I wanted to save you, like you saved me.”

“I didn't do anything,” Mike protested. “I was just there. It's like you said earlier. I just want to be there for you, and I want you to be here for me. Seriously, no one can be strong all the time: everyone needs someone.”

“Dad,” Jane called, as the two passed the threshold and headed toward her room. “Can Mike and I. . ?” She motioned toward the door.

“Leave it open a bit, please,” Hopper called from the kitchen, as he dialed from the landline. “I'll be on the phone, so you'll have some privacy.”

Jane nodded, and Mike locked eyes with Hopper. _'Try something, and this all goes away.' _Mike thought _that_ is what the Chief's eyes were saying to him. He swallowed the hollow feeling that was growing in his throat and followed Jane.

“I'm not. . .talking about today,” He watched Jane take a small flannel sweatshirt off the back of her desk-chair, then turn to face him. She walked up to Mike, holding it tight to her chest till they were only a few inches apart.

_'Guess,' _she thought, as she placed the flannel into his palms. _'I can't say it till you already know, please. . .please.'_ Jane watched Mike's face as he ran the fabric through his fingers, but his expression was stony. He stopped after a moment and stood there for long seconds. _'Oh no, what if I broke him?'_

Then Mike's arms came up around her, and he slowly pulled her close. It was a wonderful feeling, being in his arms again. And the way he was holding her now—not like her clawing need earlier when Mike felt like the only safe place in the world—it was warm and comforting. Jane felt herself falling in love with him all over again.

“I gave up on you,” he said into her ear. Mike was breathing deeply, and she thought that his voice sounded strained. “There wasn't a night that went by—” Jane could feel his body shutter and his tears fall onto her neck. “—for over a year, that I didn't think about you. I talked to you before falling asleep. I must sound crazy, but I just thought if I wanted it bad enough that you could hear me—feel me calling out to you.”

“Same, Mike. I did the same.” Jane could feel him falling apart in her arms, and oddly it settled her. She felt strong enough to hold them both together through sheer happiness that there was nothing between them now. “I never stopped thinking about you. I knew I would see you again. I just knew. . .then Hopper came to adopt me, and he brought me back.”

“Shit,” Mike laughed, wiping his tears away on her shirt and still holding her close. “I'm gonna have to like him now.”

They both laughed at that, and Jane added, “You better. He's my dad.” She pushed Mike away slowly. As wonderful as the feeling of their bodies pressed together was, Jane needed to see him look at her with new eyes. And as their as met, she smiled from the bottom of her heart.

“El,” Mike croaked. He sniffled loudly, then laughed again. “It's really you. I think a part of me always knew. . .do you believe me?”

El nodded. “Friends don't lie.” The two laughed again, as Mike stroked her cheek. His brown eyes, dark as midnight, had a life-like light that she had never seen. She watched as they took in her every feature.

“Can I—I don't,” Mike's smile broke into a confused look. “Should I still call you Jane?”

“If you want.” She wanted to kiss him more than she ever had. “I'll always be your El. It meant much to me. . .when you called me 'El'. When you did, I knew we. . .it was special. . .I knew I could trust you. I never got to tell you that.”

“There's so much I never got to tell you,” Mike echoed. “I lost you, and now you're here. I still can't believe it.” There was silence as the two continued to stare at each other. Slowly, naturally, their lips came together.

“Mike,” El swooned, after they broke apart after several long seconds. “I want to be together. I want to be your girlfriend. Do you still—?”

“Of course,” Mike jumped to reassure her, and he kissed her again, and again, and again. . .till the two were laughing and gasping for air and moaning in hushed tones.

“Mike,” she tried to speak, as his lips captured hers every other moment. “I'm. . .sorry. . .I—oh. . .” He had moved to her neck, then to that spot under her ear that he had discovered in the closet at Jennifer Hayes' party. “I wanted to tell you all the time. Mike, listen,” she whined, not really sure if she meant it. One of his hands was gently squeezing her wrist, and the other was pressed to her lower back, keeping her close.

He stopped, but El could see the hungry look in his eyes and knew that it was reflected in hers. “Sorry, I think, uh, I've been holding that in for a while.” At that she laughed again, and to him it sounded bright and sweet like honey: like the color of her hair and eyes. “It's ok, El. I know you had a good reason, and I'm not mad. I'm just. . .I can't lose you again.”

El's heart broke. She took both his hands and squeezed tight, then gave Mike a long, deep kiss. “You won't lose me.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.” For her, El thought, it was the promise of a lifetime.

* * *

They were in Mike's basement: her boyfriend had arranged everything. After it was settled that Mike would spend the night, El had talked almost non-stop about everything that had happened to her while they had been apart. “Slow down. Chew your food. You're hardly making sense,” Hopper had said more than once over the pizza they ordered. She knew that her sentences were coming out broken—and Mike actually might not really understand everything—but she did not care. He had a perpetual smile as she spoke, and El knew that is was only for her.

So she kept on talking about anything and everything—good, bad, happy moments and sad—and even after Hopper insisted that everyone go to bed, El snuck out an hour later to join him on the couch. This time she let Mike tell her about his life; and he did for a while, before his thoughts turned toward the future. He wanted to let the party know as soon as possible, and his excitement had calmed her anxiety. . .for the most part.

So in the morning—after Hopper had found them passed out together on the couch and given her a talk about “boundaries” and “respect”—Mike called everyone for an impromptu sleepover. Will, who was going with his mom and Bob to pick up Jonathon at the airport, was the only one who could not make it; so El thought she should go and see him first. After begging and pleading, and promising to always follow “his rules” in “his house”, El convinced Hopper to let her sleep over with the party at Mike's house. He would drive them to the Byers' house, and they would bike from there.

That conversation had gone fairly well. After all, Will had only ever seen El once before he was taken. She managed to apologize for running away and putting him in danger. As she felt the tears well-up in her eyes, Will closed the distance to give her a long hug. “I never blamed you. Mike and Lucas told me what happened. You protected my friends by keeping them away from that man. . .you got rid of him, when he was going to. . .You saved all of us. The rest of it, El: it's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's ok.”

The weight that she had been carrying for three years lightened in those moments. She sobbed harder than she had in the locker the day before, apologizing and holding onto Will as he forgave her. Nightmares would come still; and she would never be able to shake her past off completely, but at least her future would be filled with people who loved and supported her—those were Ms. Byers' words. . .because of course El had to tell her too.

Joyce Byers had let the scene play out, as she watched from her place on the couch. She was so proud of the son that she had raised. They had their own talks about that awful week years ago, and she knew that there was only one way forward: acceptance and forgiveness. Joyce told El as much after the latter managed to calm down. She could not remember being so happy and confident, as Mike borrowed Will's bike to take them to his house.

The party was already waiting for them, and El wanted to waste no more time. She asked them to sit and told them without preamble that she was El: _the _El who—but she did not get any farther than that before Dustin cut it.

“I fucking knew it!” Dustin exclaimed. “I knew it. I knew it. From the first moment, I connected the dots.”

“You didn't connect shit,” Lucas and Max said at the same time.

“I connected them,” Dustin insisted. “Holy shit! El!” He moved to give her a hug, and she stood up to meet him. He stepped back after almost a full minute and said, “No wonder you went for Mike and not me. _That_ was the biggest mystery.” They both laughed, as Lucas pushed Dustin away and gave El hug.

He lifted her off her feet and spun her around once before putting her down and letting her go. “I thought you were dead, man.”

“Dude!” Mike chided him.

“Seriously?” Max gave him a scathing look.

But El and Lucas were smiling at each other, before El sobered and took a deep breath before speaking. “I'm sorry for not leading you to Will. I never. . .I never said so back then.”

“Oh,” Lucas's grin faded, and he scratched the back of his head. “Well, if we're doing that. . .I'm sorry for calling you a traitor. You were keeping us safe. . .I was just scared, and a little, stupid asshole.”

El laughed, and so did Max. “I should be taking a picture,” Max said. “Lucas admitting he was wrong _and _that he is an asshole? Christmas came early for me.”

“Jesus, are you two broken-up again?” Mike asked.

“What? No!” Lucas and Max said together in the same half-disgusted tone.

“Good, 'cause you're basically the same person,” Dustin teased them.

“Fuck you,” Lucas replied.

At the same time, Max protested, “Am not!”

“Wait,” Dustin turned to face El again, apparently losing interest in the other couple's drama. “Does this mean you two are. . ?”

“Mike's my boyfriend,” El answered, grinning—she knew—from ear to ear.

“Son of a bitch,” Dustin cursed. “I owe Will my Uncanny X-men #94.”

“What? Why?” Mike asked.

“Dustin bet that he would have a girlfriend before you,” Lucas offered.

“Well, who knew _freaking El _would come back into Hawkins from goddamn outer space!? And even then, it didn't look like Mike was ever gonna seal the deal. Shit."

“Serves you right,” Mike said, as he flipped Dustin off.

“Um,” El raised her voice above the din, and after a moment everyone quieted. “Could you. . .can everyone still call me Jane at school? I like my name, and I like El too. It. . .would be nice if my nickname was only for the party.”

Everyone agreed, then Dustin and Lucas proceeded to ask her about the last three years. El did not mind: maybe this time she could actually keep things straight so that Mike and everyone else knew about their time apart. She could hear about everyone's stories some other time, for now it felt good to be the center of attention. . .surrounded by friends who loved her. . .in Mike's basement, like she had imagined for so long.

* * *

El had trouble sleeping again. Dustin had taken the couch; Lucas and Max piled blankets over by the TV; and she and Mike took their sleeping bags to make due in the far corner of the room, where her blanket fort had once stood.

“Mike,” she whispered into his ear. El felt bad about waking him up, but the anxiety was building within her again. She wanted to hear his voice.

“Hmm?” He was not really awake yet, so she stroked his cheek gently and ran her fingers through his hair for a few minutes, all the while saying his name ever-so-quietly. Finally, his eyes opened with a smile on his face.

“Mike, can we go upstairs? To talk?"

“Ok,” he said sleepily. “We gotta be quiet though.”

The two made their way up the basement stairs with a painstakingly slow pace, so that the creaks from the floorboards did not echo and wake their friends. Mike went to the bathroom, pissed and splashed water on his face, then made his way to the living room where El was waiting.

“Thank you,” El said shyly, as she moved to hold him.

“Wait,” Mike pulled away. “Did you want to sleep up here?”

“I don't know,” El looked away, trying to hide the hurt on her face. She knew that he had not meant anything by it, but feeling Mike move away from her when she desperately wanted to be closer had made her insides feel hollow.

“Just give me a few minutes,” Mike said, reaching over to lift her chin and kissing her softly. Immediately, that hollow feeling filled with a warm glow that made El smile. She grabbed Mike's wrist and moved his hand along her jaw toward the back of her hair, while scooting closer to kiss him again in earnest. Mike folded into her embrace and reveled in the feeling of her lips on his: her hair running through his fingers, heavy breaths every few seconds that fell upon his chin and neck, and above all the heat coming from their closeness that crashed over him like waves.

“I'm sorry,” El said, suddenly breaking from him. “I. . .we can go back—downstairs, if you want.”

“That's, uh,” Mike still felt a bit dazed from the sudden rush of hormones after being asleep only minutes before. “El, that's not what I meant. I was going to bring down the pillows from my bed, and maybe a blanket. Oh, and my watch—my mom gets up at the same time every morning, since Holly started sleeping all the way through the night. . .So I can set an alarm, you see?” Mike explained when El gave him a blank look. “Don't want to get yelled at by parents two nights in a row.”

El smiled, trying not to laugh. “Ok. . .come back soon.”

“I will,” Mike said, blushing and moving silently out of the room and up to his bedroom.

He managed not to make too much noise, he thought, and after a few minutes he had them set up. Mike put a thick pillow against one of the armrests to lay against and threw his feet up on the sofa; then, he laid another on his chest, so El could lay down comfortably on top of him and stretch out between his legs. He would be lying if he said that it was comfortable, but on the other hand, the literal girl of his dreams was so close that he could feel the outline of her body against his and smell the pleasant scent of her shampoo.

“I think,” El said, after she had found the best position. “I might be. . .a bad girlfriend.”

“What?” Mike said, in an incredulous whisper. “You're doing great so far.”

El brought her hand up to run her nails up and down Mike's arm, and he gave a thankful hum of delight. She went on, “. . .because I'm needy. I don't. . .I don't ever want to be apart.”

“Me neither,” Mike jumped to answer.

El felt restless, so she went on, trying to find the right words. “I thought. . .when I told you that—that there wouldn't be. . .between us.”

“El,” Mike's voice was full of concern, but he spoke in a comforting tone. Everything about him was comforting to her, which is why she felt safe and bold enough to talk about this thing that truly scared her.

“But,” she said, not wanting to lose her train of thought. “But it doesn't feel like that.”

“I don't know what you mean, El.” This time Mike's voice had a twinge of sadness and guilt. “I'm not hiding anything from you. I—maybe, I don't know. Umm, maybe we just need to catch up some more—like fill in the gaps. The more time we spend together, I think, the more that feeling will fade.”

That made sense, El thought. And she trusted Mike, but the urgency in her now kept pushing her for more. She realized in a flash that it was not her anxiety driving this need in her, but something altogether darker, stronger, and more intoxicating.

“Even right now,” El said, shifting her weight to move herself up the couch and look Mike full in the face. She felt his legs shift under her, so she lifted up, intertwined their legs, and moved completely atop him. “We're not close enough.” She heard the breathy, wanting quality of her own voice, but felt beyond embarrassment because Mike was looking back at her with that same fierce stare that he had given her yesterday in her room. . .and she could feel his hands move to her waist to hold her in place.

“El,” Mike whispered, and she could hear the same want in his voice.

“I didn't get you something for Christmas.” El was beyond thought now. Mike's hands moved up and under her shirt to wrap around and feel the curves of her body.

“Huh?” Mike did not want to take things too far and do something he would regret, but rational thought was quickly going out the window.

“I was supposed to go today with Max,” El breathed out.

“Oh, it's fine.” Mike felt a vague sense of satisfaction at guessing the girls' plans correctly, but at this moment he was trying to become one with his arms, which El kept gripping and petting in turn.

They could both feel the hesitation in their touch, waiting for the other to push the unspoken boundaries that had somehow been erected without any conscious effort. Mike pushed a bit farther up her body, watching as his arms disappeared under her shirt; but he kept his hands on her back, feeling every inch. Their eyes met in earnest, and Mike could see the awed expression on El's face: her mouth was open, and though she was not making any sound, he could tell that she was breathing hard and deep. She nodded and leaned down just a bit, so Mike could feel how her back arched when she moved closer. He drew his hands slowly from her shoulders down her spine, savoring more than anything else the lust-filled look in El's eyes.

“Close your eyes,” she said in a voice quieter than a whisper. Mike nodded and obeyed. He felt her sit up, then a moment later lower down. “Lift your leg. . .a little, no—the one between—yeah, like that.” Mike felt his thigh connect with El, as she straddled and pushed down. . .then up a bit and back down, in a slight rocking motion.

'Oh,” Mike let out a sudden outburst of understanding, suddenly feeling his body stiffen in more ways than one. Then he felt one of El's hands cover his closed eyes.

“Don't open,” she said in a breathy tone. “Promise.”

“Ok,” Mike whispered. El was still moving her hips to grind against him in a slow, constant motion.

“You can touch,” El said in almost a whimper. She felt so, so good. It was not like when she was alone. She knew doing it by herself had been easier and quicker and more intense in a lot of ways, but this. . .with Mike: it was so much better. She kept her eyes closed as well, wanting to believe that they were truly alone and had no fear of being discovered.

“Mmm,” Mike moaned quietly, putting his hands at her waist first. She felt his body tense, as he realized that she had taken off her shirt completely; and it only made the heat and pleasure radiating from between her legs all the more intense. El then felt him relax and gain confidence, applying pressure to her hips in harmony with her small thrusts. He gave another quiet grunt as he bent his knee ever so slightly to truly participate in her efforts.

“That's good,” she reassured him, and it was true. Mike's whole body was moving with her, enough that El could feel the couch move a bit under them. “Just a little more,” she was so quiet that she did not know if Mike heard her, but either way he seemed to respond as she moved quicker and began to thrust harder against him. She continued for a full minute, but the crest that her body was climbing toward did not come.

“Is it ok?” She had felt Mike tiring beneath her right before she had given up the effort and decided what to do next.

“Mm-hmm,” she groaned a bit, moving off of him and grabbing her discarded shirt. She pulled it over her head, but left it around her neck. “No peeking. . .sit up a bit.” As Mike scooted up—eyes still closed—she pressed his legs together and straddled him. El listened for a moment and looked toward the hallway, but the house was still. “You can touch again. . .here,” she brought his hands to her waist and guided them up to feel her stomach. Mike had a somewhat dumbstruck look on his face, and she had to hold back a laugh—which quickly turned to a sharp intake of breath, as his palms moved along her ribs and found her breasts.

“Does it feel good?” Mike said, feeling bolder by the second. He was moving his fingers over the subtle curves of El's chest and traced the outline of her nipples against her soft skin.

“Mm-hmm,” El bit her lip and closed her eyes, reaching down to slip her hand between her legs.

“El,” Mike breathed out, squeezing gently.

“Like that. . .oh, Mike,” El tried to control her breathing, suddenly opening her eyes in a panic as the intensity of her orgasm washed over her. A sudden jolt or anxiety told her to make sure Mike's eyes were closed and to check the hallway again. Her fingers slowed their movement over her clit, mirroring the circles made by Mike's hands as they massage her breasts. She caught one of his hands and brought it to her mouth, having the sudden need to kiss any part of him. To her surprise and sudden delight, Mike's fingers began tracing her lips as she kissed them, and she felt the urge to guide them down to feel—

“El. . .” His fingers moved into her hair. He was pulling her in close, so El pulled out her hand and held it away from the couch. Mike kissed her sweetly, then allowed her head to rest in the crook of his neck. “Did you. . .were you, um. . .touching yourself?”

Suddenly mortified, El hugged him tight and spoke into his neck. “Yes,” came her muffled answer.

Mike laughed in relief, then started to kiss the side of her head till he could coerce her to pull back a bit so he could kiss her forehead, cheeks, and lips once again. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“No,” El answered at once. “But. . .did you want to? Did. . .if you want, I can touch you.” She had no idea what to do; and after saying that aloud, she almost immediately regretted it, feeling her face go painfully red.

“It's, um,” Mike felt his mind split in two at El's words. “It would be messy. . .and I think we're really pushing our luck already.” He was rubbing and petting her back as he spoke, and El knew that it was not a rejection of her—in fact, she felt relieved more than anything.

“Ok,” she agreed. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“I would. . .if you wanted,” she was speaking into his ear and delighted in the shiver that went down in his body. “I really like this. I like what I can do to you. I'd do anything for you.”

Mike held her tight with his arms and legs, rolling to his side on the couch and taking her with him. Their bodies intertwined, and El felt so warm and safe and loved. “I'm gonna open my eyes now—I, uh, won't look down. Promise, but I want to see you.”

El kissed him in response, and when she pulled away, his eyes were opening to stare into hers. Impossibly, that heat and desire was rising in her again. It was almost frightening how it seemed to be the only thing that mattered—almost, at least. She tried to focus on Mike: on his eyes and the emotion behind them. He had beautiful eyes, even in the dark. . .they were like deep pools, like a still lake at night, or the darkness of outer space—not empty, but filled with a thousand distant worlds and stars.

_'I'm in love,' _El thought to herself. _'I'm fifteen and in love, and I want it to last forever.'_

“This is really stupid to say after—um, after everything that just happened,” Mike said, not breaking their gaze. “But my brain is a bit stupid right now, and my heart. . .El.” He kissed her again. It was hungry and wonderful, and it quickly led to many, many more. El understood. It was like he was trying to drain the desire from both of them: satisfying their mutual temptation by giving into it. And after several long minutes of their lips and tongues and skin moving against each other, Mike broke their embrace to look into her eyes again. “My heart says that I'm falling in love with you.”

El felt a tear run down her cheek, but neither made a move to wipe it away. She smiled and said earnestly, “I'm gonna show you. Mike, I'm gonna show you my love. . .everyday we're together.” She grabbed both his hands, rolled over back on top of him, then brought his arms down to his sides. Pushing off of him, she did not break eye contact, and El was pleased to see his eyes drift down to take in the sight of her naked chest. She squeezed his wrists, trying to resist the urge to cover herself and at the same time keeping him from touching her—El knew that would only lead to another round of heavy petting and grinding, and what if she could not stop herself? It would be a while before they had a chance like this again, and El hoped that by then she would be ready.

“You're beautiful, El.” Mike's voice did not have that same want in it that she had heard earlier: it was replaced by something less definable. . .it was the same quality that lay behind his eyes in this moment, as his gaze moved over her body like a physical, loving caress. “How could I be this lucky?”

She smiled and laughed quietly. “You said before, remember?” He nodded and laughed a bit as well. “I think I'm the lucky one.” She slowly pulled her arms through the holes in her shirt, then pulled it down. “Bathroom,” she said and slowly got off the couch.

“Me too,” Mike whispered. “I'll wait though.” As he watched El walk away meekly, Mike could only sigh and think, _'There's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight.'_

* * *

It was Friday afternoon, and Mike was waiting for the party to arrive for their three day, two night sleepover, and the resolution of their winter DnD campaign. Christmas came and went without much added excitement for him. He and El talked on the phone every night; and Mike was relieved to hear that the Chief had paid a visit to Troy, James, and Kevin's homes in turn. Of course, Hopper could not really do anything to them—legally or otherwise—other than “put the fear of God in them.” El had quoted her dad's exact words.

Mike suspected that Troy's parents were trash people, like their son, but James had always seemed caught up with other kids' worst impulses: a troubled home life he might have, but no parent wants to hear that their son might face suspension or worse from terrorizing the Chief of Police's daughter. Kevin, El had told him, was marched to their house by his parents and forced to apologize face to face. His parents also made him promise that he would not so much as look her direction for the rest of high school if that is what El wanted. Mike had explained that even if Kevin or his parents were not truly sorry for what happened—his parents might not even fully believe the story—no one in his family would be willing to risk his future: he was, after all, a talented baseball player lined up to be the Varsity's starting pitcher next year.

In any case, everyone—no one more so than El—was relieved to put the whole episode behind them; and for better or worse, Mike felt it was his responsibility to help El and his friends move into the latter half of Freshman year on a high note. Crafting the campaign was his gift to everyone, but he decided to add something small on top of it. He did not want to make a big deal out of it—each gift was more personal than flashy—so Mike waited in the entryway to give each of them their gift as they arrived.

The doorbell rang, and Will said, “Merry Christmas, Mike.”

“Merry Christmas,” and he brought his best friend in for a hug. “Here, open this. It's that set of different leaded pencils you saw a month back, remember? I hope, uh, no one got them for you yet.”

Will grabbed the wrapped gift and answered, “No. I had forgotten, so I didn't mention it to mom or anyone. Thanks, Mike. This is great. Here,” Will slung off his backpack and pulled out Mike's present. “It's _Gauntlet II_. Full honesty, my dad sent it to me—he doesn't know I don't have an Atari, so yeah. I want you to have it, so we can all play it together.”

“Awesome,” Mike smiled. “Thanks, Will. Want to head to the basement? I'm gonna wait for everyone.”

“Sure, I'll get some snacks and drinks, and I'll set up things up.”

Mike only had to wait a few more minutes till Dustin arrived, sans doorbell, bursting through with a hearty, “Merry Christmas, Wheelers! Hey, Mike. This one's for you,” he shoved a small green box into his hands. “And where's Nancy?”

“Not here,” Mike answered, as he ripped the packaging off. “After-Christmas shopping sales—here, I got this for you.”

“Ah, Mikey,” Dustin grinned wide, opening his gift as well. “You shouldn't have.”

Mike did not know what he was looking at for a second. It was a Radioshack gift card for $20, but it was taped to a box of— “Ah, dude. What the fuck!?” Mike shoved the box of Trojans in his pocket and looked around to see if anyone was around to see.

“You'll thank me,” Dustin said unconcerned, as he inspected the _Back to the Future _VHS that Mike had gotten him. “This is sweet, by the way. Thanks, Mike. I might put it on tonight when you all go to bed—well, when they go to bed, and you and El sneak off again.”

“Ok, you know what?” Mike said, more embarrassed than angry. “Go hang out with Will, asshole. I'm going to bury these and wait for everyone else.”

Lucas and Max came next a little while later. Lucas got him a black shirt with big, yellow letters that read _Star Wars—_“I know you have one, but it's getting faded,” he said apologetically, but Mike thought it was perfect—and Max had already given him a gift. Namely, she helped him figure out what to get El.

“Here, Lucas,” Mike handed his friend his gift. “Max, I didn't wrap your gift cause, uh, well, it's here.” He picked the small figurine that he had spent all of Monday assembling and painting.

“It this?” Max took the figure and examined it. Her voice almost sounded choked up, “Is this my Zoomer?”

“Yeah,” Mike explained. “The body is from a Ranger figurine—hard to find a female, but I ordered it from a magazine a while back. I used browns and dark greens for the clothes and armor—the hair I painted red, obviously. Then, I managed to find a skateboard mini that was the right size and similar material at the old game shop on Main street. Cut that part off and glued it to the Ranger's feet, then glued the whole thing to that stand. It won't look exactly like everyone else's figurine—”

“No, dude. It's awesome. Thank you, Mike,” Max said, then moved to hug him.

_'This is a first,' _Mike thought with a smile on his face. “No problem. I'm gonna wait here for El. You two can head down.”

“For sure,” Lucas said, as he moved toward the kitchen. Max followed.

No sooner had the two left the entryway, than the doorbell rang. Mike moved to open it and saw El standing on the other side. She was wearing a long sleeve, ugly green sweater with a reindeer design; a red skirt that hugged her hips and ended just above her knees; and what Mike assumed were white tights with a snowflake design.

“Hi, Mike,” she beamed at him. “I like your sweater.” El meant it: the red sweater with the snowman on the front looked not only super cute on Mike, but showed a bit more of his neck and collarbone than a normal T-shirt.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike looked down at his own shirt. “Same, Ms. Byers got it for me.”

“Me too,” El smiled. She could not wait any longer; dropping her overnight bag, El closed the distance between them and threw her arms around Mike. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, El,” Mike squeezed her, trying not to pick her up and take her to his room right that second. “I made you something,” he said once they stepped away from each other. “Here, it's a tape—with songs on it. A mix-tape with like, uh, songs that make me think of you.”

El held the tape in her hands for a long moment, staring at the words written on the small label. _Love: Year One_. She took deep breaths and looked up at Mike with all the love in her heart and said, “. . .Promise to make me one every year.”

“Of course,” Mike smiled back at her. “Whatever you want, for—you know. . .”

_'Forever,'_ El finished in her head. “Yeah,” she said aloud. “I know.”

“Ok,” he said, blushing. “Let's go join everyone in the basement.”

El nodded, grabbed Mike's hand, and followed him toward the stairs.

* * *

Lucas's leg was shaking the whole table, and Dustin's nail-biting was audible. It was almost two in the morning on Sunday (technically), when the campaign drew to a close.

Mike knew the choice they were facing: after defeating the aspect of Orcus, they had hunted down the demon lord's lich-servant to his phylactery. Time was of the essence because with any time to recoup, the Lich had enough arcane prowess to complete the ritual once more and unleash another undead demigod on the Prime Material plane. But the fight was proving too hard to manage: Lucas's Ranger and Max's Zoomer could not even damage the Lich's form with their physical attacks; the Lich had succeeded against the Turn Undead spell cast by Will's Cleric, and now he was struggling to heal the whole party, as things looked increasingly worse; Dustin's Bard and El's Mage were delivering the party's heavy hits, so much so that the Lich was attempting to flee.

The choice was calculated on Mike's part. Fleeing the phylactery meant that this would be his Lich's last life cycle—the party was sure to destroy the lair—but it also meant that an almost unbeatable fight would lay ahead of them, where they would have to fight the Lich and another aspect of Orcus at the same time.

“There's no other choice,” Lucas said, as Mike finished the Lich's turn, moving him 30ft feet toward the exit.

Dustin nodded, as Will pulled at his hair. “I'll help too,” Will declared. “I have decent strength.”

“Me too!” Max said.

“No!” Lucas responded. “You're too low on health—just touching a Lich causes damage. Besides, you need to be a final shield for the Bard and Mage if this does not work. It's my turn. Mike, I go to grab the Lich.”

“You take cold damage as your hands clasp it's bone body that has strings of arcane energy coming off of it like living flame,” Mike said, rolling some dice. “You're still conscious. The Lich will use it's Legendary Action to try and evade. . .and fails. Will, you're up.”

“I go to grab the Lich with our Ranger,” Will said. Mike rolled some more dice for the damage, but the Cleric remained standing.

“It attempts to break free with another Legendary Action. . .succeeds against the Ranger, but Will the Wise still has him restrained. You're up, Max.”

“Shit,” Max looked from Lucas to Will to El to Dustin.

“Time to say goodbye,” Dustin said, stony faced.

“Is this really the end for you two?” Max asked, looking around the table again.

“Wouldn't be the first time.” Will had a sad smile. “But I'll go out saving the party. . .that's the game, for me at least. That's what it's all about.”

“Yeah, don't worry, Zoomer,” Lucas smiled. “I've been with my Ranger for a long time. . .this is the best send-off I could hope for. By the way, this was fucking awesome, Mike.”

Mike smiled, then looked toward Max. “What's your move?”

“I step in front of our mage and yell, 'Try and kill me, you undead fuck!'”

The table laughed and cheered, but stopped when Mike spoke. “In a rattling, curl of a voice. . .'As you wish,' and he will use a final Legendary Action not to attempt to escape, but in a moment of wounded pride cast Magic Missile. Being the high level magic user that he is, this Lich had four bolts: two for the Zoomer who dared to insult him, and one for the Bard, and one for the Mage.

“Shit,” Dustin cursed. “This could be it.”

Mike rolled the dice. “I rolled max damage to our Zoomer, which puts you unconscious.” Max cursed, pushed away from the table, and started pacing.

“No, it's good. You did good. More than one bolt and El definitely goes down,” Lucas reassured her.

“She might anyway,” Will worried aloud.

“Four damage to the Bard,” Mike declared.

“I'm up with 1 HP, you ugly son-of-a-bitch!” Dustin exlaimed.

“Is that in game?” Lucas smirked.

“Two damage to the Mage,” Mike said, doing a poor job containing his elation that El's character had survived. The table cheered, and Mike waited a few moments before saying. “Mage, it's your turn. The Lich is 50ft from you, surrounded on both sides by your Ranger and Cleric. The Zoomer lies unconscious, but alive at your feet; and the Bard stands by your side.”

“Do it, El.” Dustin urged her.

“Do it,” Lucas agreed.

El looked to Will, who nodded. “I point my finger and aim for the bones,” El began. She felt both triumphant and sad in this moment, knowing this was the only way. . .but sacrificing her friends—even in a game—was getting to her. “And I cast Fireball.”

Mike nodded, “Roll 10 die 6. Lucas and Will, I won't make you roll your saves: the minimum damage will kill your characters. The Lich. . .” Mike rolled the d20, then smiled to himself. “The Lich fails.”

The party were all handing at least one of their dice to El. She shook and let them fly across the table, as everyone began to calculate the total in their head. Nearly at the same time, they all said, “Thirty-three!”

“As El's Mage releases the spell she had been channeling, she discovers what the great stories and tales so often leave out: the cost of saving the world—the terrible price that sometimes comes with being a hero. We win. . .and we lose; and sometimes victory and defeat walk hand-in-hand. Death for the mortal bodies of your friends is swift, as the two men surrounding the Lich are engulfed in flame and turn to ash in an instant. The Lich, however—this being of almost pure arcane force—feels every inch of the flames that lick at his bones: the fire that eats away and consumes the arcane energy surrounding him. It gives a final, horrible shriek!” Mike paused for dramatic effect, reached out his hand to remove the Lich figurine from the board, and finished, “And the undead being truly dies: it's form gone, and it's lair slowly being destroyed by the flames that grow around the remaining members of your party.”

“The Mage and I collect our Zoomer, feed her a potion, and get out of there,” Dustin announced.

“You manage to make your way out of the Lich's former lair,” Mike wrapped up the story. “The Paladin has dealt with the remaining undead, and together you begin the long journey back home. You are sure to receive a hero's welcome, and one day. . .you might even find solace in hearing your Bard's new song, commemorating the adventure and sacrifice of your fallen friends.”

The table clapped quietly, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief and exhaustion. “I admit,” Max said, as she started to clean up, “that was pretty cool.”

“Not too old for it?” Will smirked.

“Once or twice a year isn't so bad,” Max shrugged, still smiling.

“Certainly takes a lot out of you,” Lucas agreed.

“Well, that was kinda my magnum opus,” Mike stretched, feeling really tired. “So if you want to play this summer, someone else is gonna have to write the campaign.”

“I got an idea,” Will offered.

“Yeah, I got a one-shot at least,” Dustin added.

“I had fun,” El whispered to Mike, as they boys moved the table out of the way to make room for everyone's sleeping bags. “You're a good Dungeon Master.” She kissed him on the cheek, then quickly on the lips.

“Thanks,” Mike smiled against her lips. “I've had a lot of practice. . .umm, El. Are we sleeping down here?” Mike's voice was barely audible, and he had his back to the rest of his party.

El nodded, then kissed him on the other cheek. “Don't worry. We have time. . .time to be alone together a lot from now.”

Mike put his thoughts to rest for now and got ready for bed. In no time at all, everyone was set up in their usual spots, and the lights were off. As Mike drifted to sleep, he could feel El's arm wrap around him, and her body find a comfortable place snuggled up next to him on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the fic proper. In the same way I'm sure everyone could see that the Prologue was not necessary to the story, the Epilogue next week is similarly not strictly "the plot". I hope you enjoyed this 8 chapter re-imagining of a relationship we all love, and I hope you will check-in next week for some final scenes.  
This story began with El/Jane feeling "panic", and it told the story of her learning how to let go of past trauma and embrace the future--in Hopper's words, "We need to be ready". That journey is her part of the story as I see it: the engine that propelled her narrative forward, admittedly with many false starts and stalls.  
It ends with the party "in their usual spots" in Mike's basement; and as our favorite boy slowly drifts off to sleep, he feels El's arms around him and settles into "comfort". Mike's desire to keep his friends together and find a place for El among them is to me his story arc: both in the canon series and in my fanfic. It's core to his character, and I hope you enjoyed the characterizations in this story (side characters included).   
I have enjoyed writing this fic SO, SO MUCH, and I have loved interacting with the commenters as it was being published. I hope you all have felt the same, and I hope future readers FEEL all sorts of things reading this XD , but most of all I hope it brings you joy.  
This took me two years, more or less, to write so do not expect another fanfic from me for a while. The sooner the next one comes, the worse it will be written--I promise you that, haha. Still, I do have an idea for another AU Stranger Things fanfic and will begin writing that story soon. See you all next week, we're about to finish this up!


	10. Epilogue

**Summer 1987**

El was half-way happy about the accuracy of her prediction last Christmas. Sure, she had managed to sneak Mike away from the party once in a while, when they went to the mall or to Main Street. They were still in public though, so El was never brave enough to try anything more than a heavy make-out session. If she were being honest with herself, it was thrilling: the idea that they might be caught. Nevertheless, what El really wanted could not be done in a dark movie theater or behind the Arcade.

During Spring Break, she had another sleepover at Mike's house, where they made it to Mike's room without attracting anyone's attention. Her shirt was off in a second, and their lips collided hungrily as El dragged him to the bed. She was determined to go as far as Mike wanted, and when he slipped his fingers under her panties, El felt light-headed from the release.

She eagerly pushed down her underwear and jeans, but it still made her feel exposed, so she was thankful when Mike threw his blanket over them both. She let him explore between her legs and reveled in the feeling of his fingers running along the lips over her clit and opening.

“Does it feel good?” He asked after each change of movement.

A simple “yes” was all El could manage. Everything felt good, but she knew Mike was getting frustrated after a few minutes. “What's wrong? You feel really good. Do you want me to. . .to touch you too?”

“Um, sorry. I just. . .I want to make you cum, El. I'm—I don't know. . .can you help me?”

She brushed his cheek and smiled. “Ok, here.” El guided his hand higher up toward her clit. “If you move your fingers back and forth, or in circles. . .you can massage it too, I think? Try, and I'll tell you. I trust you. . .That's good. Ooo, not right on it. More like this. . .yeah, mmm. Yeah, oh—Mike. That's good. Yeah, ok. Ok, ok. . .you can be harder or faster—maybe. Mm-hmm.” El bit her lip and looked at Mike, who smiled and kissed her. He continued to massage her clit, moving his hand back and forth, and reaching the tip of his fingers down to feel how wet she was.

“You feel really good, El,” Mike was speaking softly into her ear, kissing her cheeks and neck when she moved beneath him. Her whole body was moving—squirming with nervous energy as her climax remained painfully out of reach. “Does this feel good? Should I—”

“No,” El begged. “Just keep—like that. Like that, Mike. Yes, oohh. Oh,” she pulled him close, and Mike sucked on her collarbone (another week-spot he had discovered during a previous make-out session). “Slower, please. I'm cumming—slower. Ah!”

Mike had ran his fingers from her clit down and pushed into her. “You're so wet, El. I can feel you opening for me.”

“Mike,” El whined. “Not too deep, ok?”

“Ok,” he said, as he pushed a little farther into her. El lifted her legs off the bed and felt the pressure relax, allowing Mike to feel a little deeper. “Is this ok?” He moved in and out of her, hooking his finger a little so that she felt the pressure on her clit from inside.

“It's ok,” El said, a little uncertain. The motion of Mike's finger moving in and out of her sent comforting waves a pleasure up her spine, but deeper in she felt something uncomfortable and raw. “Does it feel good for you, Mike?”

“I don't know,” he stopped, but left his finger inside her. “I want to be inside of you, but I don't want to hurt you.”

“Let's do something else,” El said, feeling bolder than ever before. “Come. . .sit on the edge.”

Mike did as she asked and moved into position. El got off the bed, unhooked her bra, and stood bare in front of him. She let Mike take in the sight of her, before she smiled and asked, “Pretty?”

“You're beautiful—the most,” Mike answered slack-jawed.

“You can touch yourself,” El said. Her voice was full of longing and curiosity. Mike nodded, stood up to slide down his pants and briefs, and sat back down. “Or,” El smiled mischievously, when Mike moved to grip his cock. “If you want. . .I can touch you. You can show me.” Mike nodded, and El got to her knees in front of him. She brought her hand up and slowly brushed her fingers along the side of his erection.

When her fingers closed around him, Mike gasped. “Oh, El.”

“Sensitive?” She asked, looking up at him. “Should I move up and down?”

“The tip is, yeah,” Mike's voice was breathy and miserable with lust. “I usually use lotion, but. . .um—”

“I know,” El giggled at her boyfriend's mixed shyness and obvious longing. “I said that I was ready. . .for you to be inside me.” She closed her eyes and brought her lips to Mike, kissing the head of his shaft. . .then sticking her tongue out slightly as she slid his cock past her lips.

“El,” Mike breathed her name. “Oh, just a little is fine. . .just like that is good.” Mike could feel the bottom, most sensitive side of his dick slide across El's tongue, as she bobbed her head up and down. Her movements were slow and unending, and minutes passed without relief. Every once and a while Mike felt her teeth lightly scrape his skin, but not enough to hurt in him. It sent shivers of nervous pleasure up his spine.

El's lips finally moved away from his cock, and Mike almost groaned in frustration. “Am I doing good?”

_'God, I love her eyes,'_ Mike thought: the haze of pleasure receding for a moment, as he remembered how El had the mysterious power to erase the world with her gaze. _'Nothing matters but us in this moment.'_

Mike nodded as an answer and moved his hands to rub her neck and jaw. “I can keep going,” El said, moving her hand up and down his cock. “I want you to cum too.”

Mike put his hand on the back of her neck and encouraged her to continue. As El's lips opened once more to receive him, he pushed her head a bit further down. Slowly, but surely, his cock pushed farther—deeper into her with each thrust. “Fuck, El.” Mike closed his eyes and threw his head back, moving his hand with her head to keep his cock inside her. “Are you ok?”

El made a noise of assent, keeping him in her mouth and sucking a little more to convey her enthusiasm. Mike could hear her heavy breathing and felt her jaw go a bit slack, as Mike's hand seemed to control her bobbing movements. El had moved her hands to grab his hips, and he thought that it was ok to take control. “Ah,” El let out a noise of surprise and took a deep breathe. “What's wrong?”

Mike had pulled her head back and was already standing up. “Nothing. Are you okay to keep going?” She was panting a bit, but moved her body to follow and face him beside the bed.

El nodded and said, “Yes. I want you to make you. . .to feel good, Mike.”

“I will. I'm close,” Mike gripped his cock. “It's messy. I can finish with my hand.”

El moved his hand away and began to massage his cock with her own hand. “I know, Mike. I know how boys cum. . .” El made sure he was looking into her eyes as she spoke. “Where do you want to cum, Mike?” She tightened her grip and moved faster—up and down his head. “You can come on me, or in my mouth.” El brought him to her lips again and began to suck on the tip, as her hand massaged his shaft.

“Oh, El,” Mike was breathing heavy now. “Ok, I can't stop now. Keep going like that, I'm gonna come in your mouth.”

El obeyed and felt Mike's cock throb in her hand. He quivered against her lips, as thick liquid began to coat her tongue and the back of her throat. She nearly gagged, but managed to keep Mike in her mouth. . .till she heard Mike breathe a sigh of relief as he finished.

El quickly turned away and found the trash can by Mike's bed. She spit out the slimy substance and spit again till the taste and feel was less intense.

“Are you ok?” Mike asked. “I'm sorry—I, I, uh—”

“It's ok,” El answered. “I'm ok. It was surprising. . .more than anything.”

“Let's get dressed,” Mike suggested. “You can use the restroom, and I can get you something to drink. Ok, El?”

After they had cleaned up, El made sure to ease Mike's anxiety. “Let's sleep here,” she said.

“Ok,” Mike smiled. “I'll set an alarm again. When I went to get water, it looked like everyone was still asleep.”

They got under the covers, and she faced Mike on her side, snuggling against his back. “Mike?”

“Yeah, El?”

“I liked that. . .all of it.”

“Me too.”

“Mike. . .I was ready to do more. I am ready, if—if you want.”

Mike moved in her arms to face her. He looked into her eyes for a long time, placing his hand on her cheek and moving his thumb along her cheekbone in a gentle motion. “I don't want to hurt you, El.”

“Don't say that,” El grabbed his hand, brought it to her side, and intertwined her fingers in his. “You'd never hurt me, Mike. Are you afraid. . .that I'll hurt you?”

Mike was silent for a minute, but he did not turn away. “I'm afraid everything might change. They say that it changes everything.”

El almost laughed. “I know. . .I know what you're feeling too well. But. . .Mike, I'm not afraid of change anymore. I have you—because I have you, I'm not afraid. I—I lo—”

Mike was kissing her, and she melted into the feeling. Their lips wrestled into a comfortable position, as their tongues met again and again. El felt herself move onto her back, as Mike pushed on top of her. “I love you, El.”

“I love you,” she said automatically, her eyes still closed and her mind in a daze from Mike's sudden kisses. “I love you so much, Mike.”

They moved at the same time to hold each other close, and in another moment they were laughing and crying quietly. Waves of happiness crashed over El, and without another word or solid thought, they were asleep.

In the coming weeks, the two had taken time to have private conversations about their soon-to-be first time together. After a lot of apologizing and embarrassment, they managed to agree on a few things. First, Mike did not want to plan a time or place. He reasoned that—after all—they were still very young, and if it happened at all, it should happen naturally. El was torn on that point, since she was already frustrated with how difficult it was to find time alone in the first place; but she laughed when Mike said that they could still do “all the other stuff, if she wanted”. His face had gone red, as they both remembered the last intimate session over Spring break. Second, El said they could not be alone together in El's room, specifically over Summer break. She told Mike about her long conversation with Hopper, and her promise to respect his rules in their home. Nothing would keep her from Mike, and nothing would change the way she felt about him, but she would not betray her dad's trust in that way. Mike, of course, agreed. Lastly, when the moment did come, they would trust each other and listen to their partner's wants and needs.

That last point was decided after another heavy session on July 4th. This time they had slipped away from the celebration in the Town Square and made it back to his house. Seeing that his parents were still home, Mike had led them around the back into the basement. He brought El into a corner and slipped his hand under the skirt that she had worn that day; and with the other hand on her mouth, he had silently brought her to a quick climax. It was only the third time Mike had touched her there, but he seemed to know exactly where to touch and how—or maybe, El thought, it was just because she wanted him so badly.

Of course, she eagerly repaid the favor: switching their positions, pushing Mike against the wall, and kneeling in front of him. El knew they needed to be quiet and quick, so she pulled Mike's erection out without taking off his pants or underwear, then used her hand and mouth together to make him climax. Mike placed his hand on the back of her head to gently guide her rhythm, and in only a few short minutes El felt his cum coat her tongue and the back of her throat, as Mike gave a low groan. She sucked his cock in long strokes, breathing through her nose carefully and swallowing as El felt him throb and release several times inside her.

Mike had put himself away and cleaned up, but when he came out of the basement's restroom, El quickly pulled him onto the couch and straddle him. “El,” he whined, as she began to kiss his neck and move her hands over his chest, then into his hair. “We can't keep going. My mom could come down any second.”

“I want you,” El breathed into his ear. She now knew exactly how to make her voice low and soft in a way that drove Mike crazy. “Don't you want me too?”

Mike pushed one of his hands under her shirt to feel the length of her back, and the other pulled on the back of her hair to expose her neck. El felt a small bite that made her gasp loudly, but it quickly turned to a moan as Mike began to kiss and lick the sensitive skin along her neck and collarbone. “You know I do, El. But when it happens. . .I don't want to be thinking about my mom, or anyone else. I won't be able to: if I stop holding back, even a little, then I won't want to stop.”

“I know,” El said, putting their foreheads together, but still moving her hips to grind against him. “I don't want you to stop until you have all of me. I'm tired of waiting. . .I can feel you.” El ran her hands along his shoulders, then down his arms to pin his hands at his sides. “I can feel your eyes on me whenever we're together, and it makes me. . .Mike,” she was breathing into his ear again, and Mike was frozen under her. He would not move—could not move—without losing himself completely. “Let's make another rule. I won't do it like this. I won't make you lose control, but you have to listen to me. Really listen: so that when I say 'yes', you won't need to hold yourself back. I promise: when we give ourselves. . .we're only gonna need to think about each other. I love you, Mike. . .so much, and I will be selfish when I make love to you. But I promise to listen to what you want, ok?”

“Ok,” Mike said. His eyes were sill closed, but El knew he was listening with his whole body.

“And you can be selfish with me,” El smiled and brought her lips to brush against his, then she let go of his hands. Almost immediately, Mike brought her into a close embrace, burying his face into her chest. “Whatever you want, I'll give to you.”

“I love you, El.” Mike's voice was muffled, but she understood. “I trust you, completely.”

Things calmed down for a while after that day. During the first half of the summer, even when they were with their family or friends, they stayed no farther than an arms length away at all times. “Obnoxious”, both the party and Hopper had called it, but the two had just laughed it off. But after the Fourth, everyone seemed to notice how the couple were more comfortable breaking off to spend time apart. Now El and Max were the one's sneaking off whenever the party went to the mall; and when they were hanging out at Mike's house—Will had began their summer DnD campaign—El spent the party's downtime checking in with Mrs. Wheeler and Holly, or else getting to know Nancy better.

For his part, Mike reveled in being a player character—rather than the Dungeon Master—for the first time since last summer; and he was constantly going over strategy with Dustin and Lucas when the party was all together. Sometimes, when the party decided to go to the arcade or mall, he stayed home to earn extra allowance by doing house- and yard-work. El would simply kiss him goodbye, then follow the rest in their adventures.

“Is everything good with you two?” Lucas finally decided to ask at the beginning of August. “Mike says so, but. . .well, I thought I'd ask.”

“You have zero tact,” Max snapped at him. But along with Will and Dustin, she looked to El for an answer all the same. “Seriously, though, you can talk to us if Mike fucked up somehow.”

El smiled back at them with a wide grin and answered, “It's been great. The last seven months—I mean, almost a year with everyone—has been the best time of my life."

“You can say seven months,” Dustin fired back with an annoyed tone, but still smiling. “We all know you're nuts for Mike. We're just not sure why.”

Max and Will laughed, but Lucas remained curious. “Well, yeah. That's why it's weird. I mean it's weird that you two aren't still glued at the hip. So if everything is good, what's up?”

El took a long time to answer, wondering how honest she wanted to be with everyone. _'It's embarrassing, after all.'_

“You don't have to answer him, El,” Max said, breaking the silence after a full minute. “He's just nosy.”

“We're all curious,” Dustin argued. “You too, Max—don't bother denying it.”

“I'm not in a hurry,” El began to speak, before they could argue more. “I'm here. I'm finally here with everyone, and I'm not going anywhere. And I. . .I love you all. I love Mike. I want to be with him—and I want us all to be friends—forever.”

“Wow,” Will was the first to speak after a long moment of stunned silence. “I mean, I think we all kind of knew, but hearing you say it. We. . .we love you too, El. And,” Will clenched his fist and took a deep breath. “You and Mike are perfect for each other. I'm here for you both.”

El smiled and wiped a tear away. “Thank you.”

“Us too,” Dustin spoke up, shoving Lucas and Max forward, reaching for Will to bring them all into a group hug. “We're with you to the end. Party rules.”

“Party rules,” Max said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. “I love you nerds, and you too, El.”

“Did someone get that on tape?” Lucas asked, and Max shoved him out of their shared embrace. They laughed and walked together to the arcade, as the summer sun smiled down at them all.

* * *

**Winter 1987**

The first half of the school year passed quickly enough, as Mike found himself once again looking over old photos of the party together. So much had changed in such a short time, he had felt himself spiraling out of control more than once in the past four months. One day, Will had suddenly announced that his family was moving to Portland, Maine at the start of September: Bob Newby and his mom were finally tying the knot. Bob had a manager position with Radioshack lined up, and the move would put them closer to Johnathon at NYU.

More than that—Will had explained everyone—it was a chance for a fresh start. They all knew that Will had never quite been the same after being taken by Martin Brenner; and though he never said it out loud, Mike knew that El's reappearance could not have been easy on him. They moved only a week later, and Mike could not remember crying harder or feeling more miserable in the coming days.

El had avoided him for almost a week after the Byers left Hawkins, but finally came to visit him when he stopped going to school. She sat at his bedside, as Mike curled into himself: angry at the world for taking his oldest and dearest friend away from him. She spoke softly and kindly, asking if she could get him anything or do today's homework for him, so he could come back to school with no added worries. . .but Mike could not speak without sobbing, so he said nothing.

“I'm sorry, Mike.” El finally broke down, and Mike turned over to see her. “It's all my fault. I'm so sorry I drove Will away. I'll never forgive myself, and you don't have to forgive me either. I don't expect you to, just please tell me what I can do.”

Her cries broke his heart even further. He rolled off his bed and brought his arms around her. They cried, holding onto each other for a long time. Mike knew that the whole house could hear them, but thankfully no one came to ruin this private moment of grief between the two. Of course, Mike did not blame her—never blamed her. They talked it out that night, and El's secret worries were put to rest over the next month as they seemed to find stability in each other.

Then Max told them—crying with her arms around Lucas—that she was moving back to California: she was going to live with her dad and his new family. El remembered the sleep-overs at Max's house, and how oppressive it had felt when Billy and her step-father were both home. She remembered hearing the shouts through the walls and the cries of Max's mother. One time when her courage moved her, El had climbed up into Max's bed to hold her friend close and tell her it was going to be okay. Max had sobbed silently into her arms; and after that day they had a closeness. . .which El was about to lose.

“Don't go,” El cried, pushing through her friends to hold Max. “Don't go, don't go, please. . .please, please, please, Max.” She knew it was no good, and that she was being stupid. It did not matter in that moment.

“I'm sorry, El. It will be ok. I promise,” Max squeezed her friend tight and tried not to cry. They had their last sleepover on Halloween, after Max had talked her into toilet papering their P.E. teacher's front yard. “I've always wanted to do that!” The two girls screamed in delight as the lights came on inside the house, and they scrambled into Steve Harrington's car to flee into the night.

It was Mike's turn to comfort her now. And by the time Thanksgiving came around, they both felt the ground return beneath them and were ready to move forward. Like Mike and Will, El set up weekly calls with Max, who was planning to return this Christmas to spend time with her mom.

Lucas joined the football team, and Dustin took a more active role in the Debate club; but the two still had A/V club with Mike during last period. El was still trying out different after-school activities—drama, pep squad, etc.—but for the most part, she was content studying with Mike in the library. As Winter break began, she was proud to announce to her dad that she was nominated for the academic-honors track and would begin AP courses Junior year as long as she kept her current grades.

And so it was on the 19th, the first day of Winter break, when El radioed Hopper to tell him that instead of shopping for Christmas presents at the mall, she was going to surprise Mike at home. Hopper sighed in defeat, but did not protest. “I need help with shopping, actually,” El explained. “Can we go together tomorrow?”

“Ok, kiddo.” Hopper said, and El could hear the smile in his voice. “I'll pick you up at five tonight, ok? We'll get dinner on the way home.”

“Thanks, dad,” she said back. “That sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

El began the familiar walk to the house at the end of Maple Street. She rang the doorbell and waited, but there was no answer. She rang and knocked a few times, as worry began to fill her insides a little. _'He might have had the same idea and gone shopping. . .but shouldn't his dad be home at least?'_ Then El remembered Mike mentioning Nancy arriving today at the airport in Hendricks County: that was a four hour round trip minimum. She cursed out loud, then turned to face the street and take a moment to commiserate before starting the walk back home.

She heard the door open behind her and a lovely, familiar voice say, “El? What are you—”

El turned and threw herself into Mike's arm, kissing his cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Surprise! I thought no one was home.”

“Sorry,” Mike pulled her inside, away from the winter chill. “I was in the basement. Is everything ok?”

“Of course,” El said, taking off her thick, tan coat with red, faux-fur lining and hanging it up. She was wearing snow boots, jeans, and a tight, gray turtleneck sweater. “I wanted to surprise you. Is your mom picking up Nancy?” She was looking around for Holly, as she walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Mike rubbed the back of his head nervously. “They left about about an hour ago, so everyone should be back by, uh, like four or five?”

El stopped suddenly, then turned to face Mike. “Oh. . .”

“Yeah,” Mike said. They were staring at each other, but stayed silent for a long minute.

Finally, El turned to grab a can of soda out of the fridge and began to drink. “So what were you working on in the basement?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Mike cleared his throat, as his voice broke a bit. “I thought you would be at the mall today, so I, uh. . .I was just thinking of heading out to, uh, just maybe wander around the mall and see if we ran into each other.”

“Mike!” El gasped with playful outrage. “I was going to be getting your present. You would have ruined the surprise!”

Mike shrugged. “I would have still acted surprised though—on Christmas day, I mean. It doesn't matter what you get me. I'll love it.”

“Hhmm,” El gave him a suspicious look, but Mike just smiled. Her eyes were narrow, but her nose was scrunched up, and she had a smile on her face.

“You're cute,” Mike suddenly blurted out.

“Compliments won't save you, Michael Wheeler.” El stood up and slid her arms around his hips, feeling Mike do the same. “I guess they help though. . .I do care what you get me, by the way. I want my mixtape. You promised, remember?”

“Of course,” Mike said, indignant. “I finished it yesterday, if you're gonna twist my arm about it. That's what I was, uh, doing downstairs. I was listening to make sure it was just right.”

El could not hold back anymore. She tilted her head up, got on her toes, and closed her eyes. Mike had shot up in the last year and was now almost half-a-foot taller than her now, but still. . .when he held her and leaned down slightly to meet her lips, El thought they fit together perfectly. “I wanna hear it.”

“It's not Christmas yet,” Mike teased her.

“I don't care,” El's voice was suddenly serious: her tone was low, and her eyes pierced his with an unmistakable understanding. “You have Will's old stereo in your room now, right?” Mike nodded and gulped. “I'm gonna use the restroom and meet you up there, ok?”

“Yeah,” Mike managed, before El stepped away from him and disappeared up the stairs. He was down the basement floor in an instant. Once he had the tape, he took a moment to compose himself.

_'Is this really about to happen?'_ Mike had opened the box of condoms that Dustin had given him about half a year ago, putting one in his backpack, another in his wallet, and the rest in his bedside dresser. _'Shit, are they even good after a year?' _A few months ago, after it seemed inevitable that he and El would get to _that _point, Mike had swallowed the mortifying embarrassment and practiced putting the condom on himself. He even had masturbated with it on—twice—to see how the friction would feel against the sensitivity of his skin. _'No, they're good. They're good for like three years or something.' _

He made his way to the second floor, stopping off at the bathroom to gargle with some mouthwash and check his general reflection. He had an angry pimple near his eyebrow, and lesser (but noticeable) acne scars on the left-side of his face and along the top of his shoulders. Mike had broken out in full puberty this last year; and though his face had finally settled into a well-defined shape—handsome even, he conceded to himself—Mike's sudden growth spurt and acne still made him feel like a walking embarrassment half the time.

_'Quit it, nerd-lord,'_ he told himself, slapping his cheeks lightly. _'El's waiting for you. You love each other. Give it a minute, and all you'll be thinking about is her.'_

When Mike entered his room, he registered El kneeling on his bed a moment before her voice said, “Close the door.” He did, then turned back around to notice that the windows were closed, and the blinds drawn. “Come here,” she called to him, which refocused Mike's attention.

He walked closer and saw that El had folded her jeans and put them on the chair by his desk. Her legs were bare, and Mike's hand instinctively went to run his fingers along her thigh down to her ankles. “Purple,” he said out loud without thinking.

“I'm not matching, so don't get too excited,” El teased him, pulling his hands away from her legs and placing them in her hair. “Come here,” she said again. Mike closed the small amount of distance that remained between them, climbing onto the bed and pushing her onto her back. “Mike. Oh, Mike.” His hands massaged the sides of her head, as his lips kissed her cheek and her neck—his tongue was tracing small circles on her skin, before he playfully nibbled on her ear.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing every part of her bare skin that he could reach and pulling at her collar to rediscover those more sensitive parts of her body that he knew oh-so-well by now.

“I love you too, Mike.” She put her hands in his hair and forced their lips together. They struggled wordlessly, as their tongues danced in and out of their mouths, and their moans mixed together. El's mind was going blank, but she suddenly jolted to attention when she felt one of Mike's hand move between her legs. “Wait, Mike. Wait.”

Mike pulled his hand back, giving her one last lustful kiss—sucking gently one her lower lip for a long moment—before leaning away to say, “Sorry.”

“It's ok. It's ok,” El was touching him all over, stroking his cheek and running her fingers along his chest to comfort him. She smiled sweetly, “I just want my songs.”

“Yeah, of course.” Mike shot off the bed, turned on the power to the stereo, popped the mix into the tape-deck, and hit play. He turned to face El again as the first song began to play. “I'm gonna. . .” He trailed off, as he began to take his jeans off as well.

“Shirt too,” El said, looking a bit stunned at the sight of him undressing. “I'll do mine.”

“No,” Mike nearly shouted, and El stopped. He pulled his shirt over his head and walked back to the bed, pulling El to the edge so she could sit and face him. “I want to.”

El's hands moved slowly along his hips, then up his stomach and over his chest. . .then his shoulders and down the length of his back, before putting her hands back at her side. “Ok,” she said afterwards.

Mike nodded. “Put your arms up.” He pulled her sweatshirt off easily and was surprised. “Wow, that's. . .really sexy.” El had what looked to Mike like a silk, black tank-top instead of a bra: it was solid in the front, but the back looked like lace. It hung from thin straps on El's shoulders and hugged her breasts, ending a few inches above her waist and leaving little to the imagination.

“I'm glad you like it,” El said in a shy voice. She was looking down at the bulge in Mike's underwear and trying to keep her courage. “It feels nice to wear under a lot of layers and—I, umm. . .I thought you might see so. . .”

“I love it,” Mike said, kneeling down on the floor and placing his hands on her knees. “I might take it off later though. Is this ok?”

“Yeah,” El breathed heavily. She could not look away when Mike pushed her legs apart, but allowed herself to recline back on the bed and lift herself up when Mike gave a tug at her panties. He slid them off, and she watched his hands move up and down her thighs to keep her warm; but the shudder she gave each time his lips and tongue touched her skin—moving along her inner thighs, close enough that she felt Mike's breath on the most sensitive folds of her skin—had nothing to do with the temperature.

“I'm gonna use my mouth, ok?”

“Mm-hmm,” El closed her eyes, put her hands slightly above her head, and gripped the sheets. She could feel Mike kiss just above her clit, then again lower. . .and lower. “Oh,” El moaned when she felt the soft movement of his tongue along her lips, and she knew Mike could taste the soft, wet opening that responded to his touch. His head and mouth and tongue moved slowly—kissing, licking, and touching her in every way that she could imagine, except the one place she wanted most. Still, it felt amazing to have Mike between her legs. She moved one hand down to grip his hair; and after a minute or two, El began to pull his head up slightly to drag his tongue along her skin and to her clit.

Mike placed his hand on hers and slowly pulled away, making a erotic slurping sound that made El's eyes finally open to look down at him. “What's wrong, El?”

“Nothing,” she breathed. “This is really good. How are you so good at it?”

Mike wiped his lower lip and chin, then said, “I'm just doing what I normally do with my fingers, but with my tongue—I think? I can hear and feel what you like too.”

El watch a blush creep up his face and color his many freckles, and her heart melted. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Mike said back. “Should I, um, keep going? I don't think you've cum, right?”

“You know I have haven't,” El said in a spoiled voice, but she smiled at him. “You know you're teasing me.”

“I am?” Mike said, looking innocent. “What should I do?”

El gave him a wanting look, but she was frustrated enough to play along—anything to feel his mouth on her again. “Here,” she brought her fingers down to spread the skin covering her clit. “Please, Mike.”

He lowered his head down and kissed her softly right between her fingers, then raised his head to look at her again. “Like that?”

“More,” she whined. Mike gave her a devilish grin, then placed his open mouth over her slit and began to gently suck. “Oh, oh, oh. . .” El could fell Mike's lips move in rhythm along with his tongue, as he began to lick and suck. “Ow, ow,” El said, feeling a sudden pinch. Mike began to move away, but she kept him pressed against her. “Just up a bit, and your tongue—yeah. Oh, Mike. Yes.” He was completely eating her out now, his tongue dragging along her folds and clit, and his mouth widening each time he moved against her. “Stay there, right there. Yes, Mike. That feels so good, oh!” She grasped his head with both hands, as she felt Mike grip her hips and encourage her to grind into him. “I'm cumming. Mike, I'm cumming—slow. Suck me slow, Mike.”

The final spasms of her orgasm moved throughout El's body, as she let go of Mike's hair and began to take long, deep breathes. The desire in her was hardly satisfied, and El felt an aching pulse between her legs when she heard Mike say in a commanding voice, “Sit up.” She did and saw him standing in front of her, wiping his mouth once more and looking down on her with obvious lust. His hands began to move across her skin, feeling her cheeks and neck and shoulders, then down her arms and across her stomach. “Arms up,” he said in that same demanding tone, but she stood up instead.

“Here,” El said, taking Mike's hand and placing it on the thin shoulder strap. Mike seemed to understand, moving both straps off her shoulders and down her arms. With a final tug, Mike watched it fall off of El, and he took a moment to move his eyes across her entire body.

“You are so, so beautiful.”

“I'm yours, Mike.” El moved his hands across his chest, then brought him into a tight embrace. “I'm ready,” she said after a minute, letting him go and moving to lay onto the bed. She watched as Mike opened the the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a small, square something.

“Protection,” he said simply, when he turned to face her and saw the question in her face.

“I've never put one on, but they showed us in health with—um. . .”

“Yeah. . .I can do it.” El watched him tear open the package, but before he could get any farther she sat up.

“Wait, Mike. Come lay down, please.” Mike hesitated for a moment, then moved onto the bed next to her. El took the package out of Mike's hand and placed in on the pillow next to them, then crawled lower on the bed, pulling his briefs off and dropping them on the floor. “I trust you, Mike. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he said. He was breathing heavy, but suddenly stopped as she moved one leg over him and gently pressed down on his erection to sit comfortably atop him. El sat there for a minute, taking in every part of his body and watching him do the same. Mike's arm gripped her waist as they finally locked eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” El thought over her decision for a final moment, then slightly lifted herself up.

“El. . .” Mike's voice was nervous, but he made no further protest. She grabbed his dick and slowly lowered down. “Oh, El. . .fuck.” She could feel him crest past her opening, and her whole body tensed. She let go of him, took deep breaths, then moved her hips to find the right angle. “There, El—oh, fuck.” There was pressure, but no pain as she felt herself engulf the tip of his cock—and suddenly her body was alight. That same aching pleasure was pulsing from between her legs, demanding more.

“Mike, are you ok? It's not—not, ah. . .uh, bending?” El could hardly catch her breathe: it was not the same wonderful, intense pleasure that came from rubbing her clit, but still. . .the slight friction of him inside her was so warm and comforting.

“N-no, it's, uh, it's good. El, you f-feel so good.” She could see Mike was in similar state. His words were stuttered and his breathing was shallow. It made her feel more at ease.

“I'm gonna keep going,” El said as they locked eyes again. He nodded, and she lifted herself to gain some small relief from the pressure. El felt the tip of his cock slide out—which was an altogether different, but pleasurable sensation than it going in—then she lowered herself again. El was determined this time to take all of him, but after another moment of pain and pleasure, she stopped. Mike was mumbling something under his breathe, and covering his face with his hand. “Good?”

“So good, El.” He gave a slight involuntary thrust—wanting so badly to pull her all the way down onto him—and heard El yelp. “Sorry, El. Oh god, I'm so sorry.”

“No,” she winced, then pulled herself up and gasped with relief. “Just surprised. Here,” she lowered again and found that she could keep going till. . .

“Oh, yes. Ah, ah-ha,” Mike almost laughed with relief, as he felt El's weight fall down onto him. “El, I'm all the way inside you. It feels so good.”

“Yeah,” El agreed. She felt a different pressure now inside her—the pulses of pleasure were becoming more distant and infrequent, and the pain of Mike's slight movement inside of her were growing. Still, she was pleased that Mike seemed to really like it. “Don't move, ok? It hurts. . .I need to get use to it.”

“Ok, ok,” Mike nodded, moving his hands up her thigh, over her stomach, then onto her chest. El's face relaxed, so Mike felt encouraged enough to begin lightly massaging her breasts. “Is this ok?”

“Yes,” El said in the low, wanting voice that he loved so much; then she reached down and began to touch herself. “I love you. . .I can't believe you're inside me.”

“Yeah,” Mike smiled, still massaging her and getting turned on with each passing moment. He could feel the walls of her insides gripping his cock; and he could not tell if it was him twitching with pleasure inside of her, or if the new sensation was causing her to quiver. “I'm sorry I hurt you—”

“No, no,” she protested. “Don't say sorry, Mike. I wanted this—I want you. I've wanted you so bad, for so long.” Mike watched as El began to rock her hips back and forth on top of him in such small motions that he could not really feel it on his cock—which was probably for the best, since he had almost cum inside her twice already.

“I want you, El. I want to make love to you a hundred times. I want to make you cum.” He pinched her nipples and heard her cry out, but she did not stop touching herself or moving back and forth.

“Again,” she begged him. “I'm almost there.”

“Good, I want to you cum on me—while I'm inside you.” He ran his fingers across her breast, gripped them hard, and pinched again. She cried in pleasure, but kept her furious motion—and now he could feel his cock dragging across her insides. “I'm gonna pull you under me once you've cum, El. Then you're gonna make me cum, ok?”

“Ok, ok,” she said: eyes closed and fingers moving back and forth. Mike brought his hands to hold her hips down—if she kept grinding against him, he was definitely going to cum. “Hold me, Mike. Hold me, please!” El bent down to press herself again his chest with one hand still between her legs. Mike pulled her as close as he could and clawed at her back with desire.

“Cum for me, El,” he whispered in her ear. “Please cum on me.” El gave out a final whimper of frustration, then she began to breathe heavily. Mike could feel her whole body shake as he held her. Without warning, El lifted up in one steady motion, and Mike's erection—stiff as ever—pulled out of her.

“Oh. . .” El moaned, as she moved to lay beside him. She had not expected to feel so cold and empty when Mike left her; and despite the not so pleasurable ache coming from between her legs, she longed to have him back inside her. “Mike, you didn't cum, did you?”

“No, but it's—”

“Mike,” El interrupted, turning on her side to face him and putting her hand on his cheek, so that he was looking at her. “Have sex with me, Mike. You can use the protection: I just want you inside me. Cum inside, ok?”

Mike kissed her hand in answer, grabbed the small package beside the pillow, and moved to kneel in front of her. El spread her legs wide and watched as Mike took the condom out, pulled it over the tip of his cock, then slowly unfurled it down his shaft. It was more erotic than she thought, and the dull ache inside her disappeared for a moment and was replaced by the now familiar feeling of longing. “Ready, El?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I want you—here, let me help. Yeah,” she grabbed his cock, found the right angle, then pulled slightly to guide him in. She winced in pain again, but Mike seemed not to notice. He pushed into her, and El felt her body give into his. She tried to clear her mind—to not tense up and let the feeling of Mike filling her insides take over. “Mike!”

“Is it ok?” He asked, moving in and out of her now with a set pace. His eyes were trained on her petite frame: transfixed by the way her nipples moved up and down, as her breasts gave a small bounce with each thrust into her.

“Yes,” El forced herself to say. Mike had one hand on her hip and the other was pinning her left hand to the bed. She could smell her cum on his breathe from going down her earlier and could not stop her legs from shaking with pleasure and pain.

“I'm almost there, El. You're gonna make me cum,” he promised, thrusting faster but not as deep.

Her toes were curling open and closed, as Mike continued with relentless endurance. She was touching herself with her other hand almost absentmindedly; and even though the burning pain was getting ever-so-slightly worse every moment, she desperately wanted Mike to continue. “—cum, Mike. Please, cum inside me. Mike. . .mike. . .mike. . .Mike!”

His name was like a mantra to drown out everything other than the need for him. She was screaming his name now and struggling underneath him. But it was ok, Mike had both his hands at her waist now, holding her down as his cock tore her apart. Her free hand clawed his back and dug her nails in deep, but he continued all the same. “I love you, El. Here, I'm cumming. . .I'm cumming, Oh!”

She felt his cock twitch powerfully inside her and his hips come to a stop. El kissed his cheeks and neck, as Mike collapsed on top of her. His weight was comforting, and the burning had lessened now that he had stopped moving. “I love you, Mike. I love you so much it hurts.”

“Haha,” Mike's laugh was weak, but he was petting her hair and kissing her as well. “Literally, I think.” El laughed too, and once she started, it was hard to stop. Mike carefully pulled out of her, and there was a flash of pain that stopped her laughter; but then it was gone. “I'm gonna clean up.”

El did not answer, but watched Mike grab some of his clothes and walk out of the room. After a minute, she did the same. “Mike?”

“Yeah?” His answer came out garbled, and El could see that he was brushing his teeth.

“I want to shower. Could you start it for me?” Mike spit and rinsed his toothbrush, then leaned into the shower and messed with the nobs.

“Give it a sec to warm up.”

El moved silently behind him and placed her hands on his chest, bringing him into a gentle hug. “Do you want to shower with me?” Even pressed together, they were both shivering a bit from the sudden lack of body heat and the warmth from his bed—and though Mike had honestly not considered this possibility before. . .

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “That sounds amazing. I'll go first and make sure the water is warm."

“Ok,” El smiled. “Close the curtains. I have to. . .use the toilet.” Mike did so, but he could not help but hear, underneath the din of the shower head, the steady stream of soft liquid splashing into the toilet bowl.

_'Well, I'm officially a pervert, I guess? At least I'm not peeking,' _Mike shrugged. The toilet flushed, and a moment later El pulled the shower curtain back slightly and stepped in.

“Don't stare, ok?”

“Ok,” Mike quickly looked away, grabbing the bar of soap. “You can step in: the water is good.” She did so, but quickly turned to face him. “Who's staring now?”

El stuck out her tongue, then said, “Turn around. I'll wash your back.” Mike's mouth dropped for a moment, which made El smile wide; but he turned around all the same, handing her the soap. She made circles with the bar across the surface of his back, then placed it on the tub's built-in shelf and began to massage his shoulders. Her hands rubbed the soap into his back and the tips of her fingers lightly scraped across Mike's skin, making him hum and coo in pleasure.

“This feels so good,” he said, relaxing his posture and closing his eyes. El's hands wrapped around him once again, spreading the soap along his stomach and chest. “Hey,” Mike's eyes shot open, as he felt El's breasts press against his back and her whole body slide against his.

“What's wrong?” El's voice sounded innocent, but her fingers traced his nipples, then dragged slowly down till they rested on his waist. “I thought this felt good?”

“Too good,” Mike complained, arching his body so that he could feel more of El's body against him.

“I don't think so,” El mewed, moving up and down so that her chest and stomach rubbed against Mike's back. “I'm almost down washing your back, then you can do mine.”

“Oh, that sounds good.” Mike turned to face El, bringing her into a hug. He reached behind her and grabbed the bar of soap. El continued to press her chest against him, and she shifted her wait so that she was straddling one of his thighs.

“You're right. . .this feels good,” El closed her eyes and rested in Mike's arms, as his hands moved across her shoulders and along her spine. He set down the bar, then began massaging her in turn. . .first her back, then her arms, then down to her waist and. . . “—Hey,” she cried weakly, when Mike grasped her cheeks. “Where are you touching?”

“Somewhere good,” Mike teased her, giving her ass a squeeze with both hands. “Lean back a bit.” She did, and Mike bent down a bit to massage the soap into her legs. “Ok, I think you can finish from there.”

“Ah, ok,” El teased back, grabbing the bar of soap and cleaning under her arms and between her legs. She rinsed off first, then stepped out of the shower to let Mike do the same. She grabbed one of the towels, dried off, then made her way back to his room. She could still see a small wet stain on her panties, but knew it was not enough to be uncomfortable. She slipped them on, along with her black teddy, and crawled under the covers on Mike's bed.

“Are we sleeping?” She heard Mike's voice call as he entered the room.

“I am,” El said, smiling and closing her eyes. “Just for a little while.”

“Ok, well scoot over please.” El opened her arms, as Mike slid under the covers with her. He kissed her sweetly, then turned to face the other way. She wrapped her arms around him, and struggled for a moment to find a comfortable position.

“This is good,” she decided--one arm over his stomach and the other tucked between them. Their waists were pressed together, while her head pointed away from him to rest comfortably on her own pillow.

“Really nice, yeah,” Mike agreed. “I love you, El.”

“I love you, Mike.” El choked back a sudden sob. She felt herself about to cry in earnest, but managed to take deep breaths and steady herself. “I truly, truly love you.”

Mike turned to face her, and El instantly closed the small distance between them and buried herself in his chest. “I'm always gonna love you. Every day, El. . .even the ones that suck.”

El felt like laughing, but was trying too hard not to cry. “I'm gonna make everyday worth it, even the ones that suck. . .Mike. . .I'm so glad we found each other.” Mike squeezed her tighter and ran his hands through her hair. After a while, his embrace slackened. El felt his breathe fall into a steady pace, and her sadness and joy slowly faded. . .along with the whole world around them into the sweet peace of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See You Space Cowboy . . .


End file.
